


you've strengthened an icarus (she will flow too close to the sun)

by davidstennant



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chameleon Salt, Gen, Introducing: The Quantic Kids, It's Been Months — and I Still Wanna Know What the Fuck the Class and School Officials Were On, Not Season 3 Compliant, Now with: Actual Personalities (ft. a healthy dose of Marinette Respecting Juice™), Post-Episode: s03 Caméléon | Chameleon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2020-04-08 10:08:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19104970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davidstennant/pseuds/davidstennant
Summary: There comes a time, after being knee-deep in toxic environments, where you just need to dust yourself off and erase yourself from the narrative.So Marinette tries to. Completely.





	1. un

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's had _enough._

_Thursday, April 25 th _ _— Collège Françoise Dupont, Paris, France._  
 _5:15 pm._  

The silence of the classroom is deafening.

Marinette deflates after the ordeal of explaining, passing a hand over her eyes to rid herself of the angry, bitter tears, before resting on top of the table — formed in fists. Now that she's got it out, now that it isn't suffocating her anymore (for the moment), she feels raw and utterly exposed like this. There's still tears flowing, and she feels like if she attempts to speak, she'll sound exactly how she feels at the moment — broken, and fraying at the seams.

She can't bring herself to look at the woman, not when she's poured her heart out and is so vulnerable; so she casts her eyes _everywhere_ — the window on the right, displaying the warm light of the setting sun. The tick-tick-tick of the clock, which reads five-fifteen. Her teacher's tall glass of water, its condensation slowly descending until it accompanied its fallen brethren, becoming a part of the pooling around the glass' base.

The call of her name is what makes her redirect her attention — after a great deal of hesitation — to stare her teacher in the face once more. Her lovely, lovely teacher, who was now watching her with intensified dismay.

" _Marinette_...I — " Mme. Caline Bustier exhales, before placing her hands over the girl's and Marinette really had to fight to keep the newly-produced tears at bay. No one had yet to comfort her like this — _as if they were genuinely listening to her_. "— I truly had no idea. If I had _known_ I would have — _I'm so sorry_." 

The hands tightened around hers, and the girl attempted a wobbly, yet grateful smile towards her. "You didn't know."

Because really —  Lila was an incredible liar, and so much more manipulative than most people (a certain blonde haired boy) seemed willing to credit her. She was kept alive by the various students who were too trusting to actually check her _(too blind, too afraid, too deceived)_. But even Marinette had her fucking limits — there was a point where she grew tired of constantly filtering her words. Constantly checking her emotions. Constantly being cast in a negative light for _not putting up with her bullshit anymore_.

Taking the high road _wasn't_ the wrong way to go about this, but it was too convenient. And she had had _enough_.

" _No_ ," Caline said, firmly. "I should have done more as your teacher. The fact that you were so backed into a corner that you felt as if you couldn't come to _me_ , or Mlle. Mendeleiev — you were almost _akumatized_ — " Her teal eyes were cold as they bore into her desk. "It wouldn't have taken me so long to check Mlle. Rossi's records to prove her medical issues, or check her absences. Or even oversee the seating arrangement properly instead of leaving it to everyone."

The girl says nothing in response because — _it really wouldn't have_.

The older woman exhales yet again, eyeing her. "Do your parents know? Would you like me to talk to them for you?"

She manages a nod, "They do."

 _That_ explanation had turned out much like this one had — after a truly harrowing afternoon where everything had just gotten too much, she had only kept herself together up until she reached the bakery, where she promptly broke down. Both her loving, amazing parents had comforted her throughout her uncontrollable sobbing, with embraces that were full of comfort and safety before she was able to tell them everything. She could still remember her father's soothing head pats while her mother asked her what _she_ wanted to do. "They want to follow whatever I decide."

"And that is?"

Marinette looked at their joined hands again. "I think — I think it would be best if I transferred to a new school."

Caline's shoulders drooped, and it was a long moment before she spoke again. "Are you sure? This won't go unpunished, Marinette. I will be speaking to M. Damocles about this, and Mlle. Rossi will be _harshly_ dealt with —"

"I don't doubt that, Mme. Bustier, but...I can't — " She closes her eyes, " — I _can't_ stay in this class anymore. Or this school."

And she truly couldn't. Not with Lila still reigning terror. Not with her classmates opposing her at every turn. If she just left the class, they'd question her at every turn. She'd never escape them. While yes, they themselves might not have known the extent to Lila's lies, or even afraid to confront her; there's the glaring fact that most actually thought her so _horrible_ to hate on a new student for _no reason_. She was never so brutal to _Chloe_ of all people, and yet, no one thought to question her reluctance to warm up to Lila. They — _Alya_ — attributed her dislike of the girl for fucking _jealously_ — 

She flinched. She couldn't open _that_ bag of hurt just yet.

The woman cleared her throat, eyes saddened. " _I_ — I understand. I still will deal with Mlle. Rossi _personally_. Do you — " There was a pause, where Marinette noticed just how torn up about this her teacher really was, as the woman cleared her throat a couple of times, the setting sun causing her eyes to be hidden behind a shadow. "Have you found any schools to your liking?"

She shook her head. "Not yet."

"I could — I could help you with that. There are many great schools that may be suited for you, especially pertaining to Arts and Design." Caline eyes found hers. "I can work with you and your parents on finding the perfect school where you can truly feel at ease again. You deserve that at least."

Marinette's eyes misted once more. "Thank you."

Mme. Bustier tightened her grip.

 

* * *

 

Through constant back and forth, and even in-house visits from her teacher, they had gone over numerous schools in the surrounding area. It had taken a while before they finally settled on one —  _École Louise Vallayer-Coster pour Les Arts_.

Mme. Bustier directed her to the school's official website, that depicted their well-rounded vision:

 

 

> _"At École Louise Vallayer-Coster pour Les Arts; we primarily cultivate students' artistic interests and goals while still providing enriching academic electives and after-school clubs and activities. Design and the arts — Performing and Visual, are part of our collège academic requirements to encourage all students’ creative expression, as we believe in making the students the best they could be — artistically."_

 

The collège certainly sounded amazing — it was a private school, but was incredible in its size. Many of the students attending were on the richer spectrum of things, but it didn't discriminate on which people they accepted. It had an amazing success rate, and many fashion designers, singers, and actors came from it. It was slightly more expensive than  _Collège Françoise Dupont_ — something that Marinette was alarmed at and tried to pretend as if she wasn't enamored with the school already — but they were adamant. If it meant their daughter's happiness, they would invest in the school. 

Marinette allows herself to cry.

She gathers a last minute portfolio, in line with the application requirements (she always has pieces and sketchbooks just for situations like this). With the help of Mme. Bustier; an interview is arranged with the school's principal — a Monsieur Moreau, and by the end of the week she's enrolled in, an acceptance letter in the mail:

 

 

> _Dear Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,_
> 
> _We are pleased to inform you that your transfer request was successful. You have been accepted at École Louise Vallayer-Coster pour Les Arts as a student for the academic year, commencing Monday, April 29 th_.
> 
> _Along with this acceptance letter, there are other documents that will assist you in the admission and registration process. Kindly refer to all web links listed below, and carefully read through all documents._ _These contain important information relating to your admission. Additionally, ensure that all documents needed to be returned by a specified date (such as your medical form) are returned. Details concerning your blazer fittings and pick up are also included._
> 
> _Do not hesitate to visit or contact us via email at ~~admin@lvcpourlesarts.edu~~  _ _should you have any queries or concerns about the registration process. Our Customer Service Representatives in the Marie-Adrienne Chameroy_ _Student Administration Building are always willing to assist. I take this opportunity to congratulate you on securing an acceptance from École Louise Vallayer-Coster pour Les Arts._ _We look forward to welcoming you to our school!_
> 
> _Yours sincerely,_   
>  _Alexandre Moreau._   
>  _Principal of École Louise Vallayer-Coster pour Les Arts._

 

Madame Bustier additionally speaks with Monsieur Damocles in getting Marinette out, and the girl goes to school to gather her things from her locker (at the end of the day, _after_ everyone's gone from the school).

The teacher wishes her good luck, sadness etched in her features. She gives the woman a hug, thankful for her help towards the end.

She blocks her classmates on all her social media. Her parents say they'll buy her a new phone, one that will only have Mme. Bustier and their numbers on it, as her other one is getting filled with messages from her classmates (mostly Adrien) asking if she's sick. She eyes them — the unread text from Adrien: _hey, i have the homework that due monday i can bring it for you if you want_ , Juleka's unread _hey marinette are you okay?_ and Alya's — 

She exhales and shoves the phone in one of her drawers. She can't bring herself to fully delete them, or even throw it away. Besides,  Jagged and Penny's numbers are on there, as well as Nadja Chamack's. She'll have to put them on her new phone when she gets it. She spends some time contemplating the years of pictures she has with her past classmates (the class picture, a few of her and Alya, some of her, Alya, Nino and Adrien, among others) — 

_I only tell people what they want to hear._

She eventually throws them in the same drawer. She'll eventually get rid of them.

Her room was much different, now that pictures of her classmates were gone from her walls. They were now filled with new ideas, and inspirations for designs, as well as pictures of her past designs for Jagged. Since this school was all about **_"making students the best they could be — artistically"_** , she needed to be on top of things.

Marinette eyes herself in her full-length mirror, eyes staring at her reflection as Tikki flies up to embrace her jaw. She had certainly felt lighter, after finally getting somewhere. She's wasn't completely healed — no not yet — but for the moment, she felt like she get through the day again. And that was enough.

Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was going to erase herself from this narrative. And she wasn't going to give anyone a heads up.

Let them all wonder what just made her up and leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I know very well that the show's playing/prolonging it over a period of time (possibly the end of the season) until the class finds out the truth. And I know that from the class' perspective, they don't know the depth of Lila that Marinette and Adrien do. However, that doesn't excuse the class' completely uncharacteristic behavior with Marinette — I think someone said it best when they said that everyone, _especially Alya_ (I can't _believe_ they did my girl that), were like playable chess pieces in that episode.
> 
> A wise person once said _"marie kondo said that if it doesn't spark joy throw it out and that's my philosophy on canon, kids" ___  
> Therefore, this story exists.


	2. deux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She's got this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The given descriptions of the school is slightly based on the various google images I could find of [École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%89cole_nationale_sup%C3%A9rieure_des_Beaux-Arts), which is located in the 6th arrondissement.  
> Also; this chapter's a pretty longer one, since it's meant to expository to establish her new school, therefore, the writing's a bit different. So strap yourselves in.

_Monday, April 29 th _ _—  The Dupain-Cheng home,  Paris, France._  
_4:30 am._

She gets up an hour early before she's supposed to, just to calm herself.

She eats with her parents, who give her warm words of encouragements, and with Tikki pressing herself against her leg, she can't help but smile. The new phone her parents had promised her was bought, and Marinette input their numbers. She would do the others when she got home later today.

Tikki has a few words for her, "I know that you're hesitant, Marinette. But don't be afraid to make new friends again." She pauses at that for a moment, before sighing, nodding at the Kwami before going to get ready. 

The uniform isn't really a uniform — according to the principal, Monsieur Moreau, it would constrict the students' ability to express themselves. And they _couldn't_ have that. However; all students had to wear the official school blazer (that was only utilized whenever they had field trips) every Monday morning. So she buttoned the blazer over her designated outfit for the day, a red dress with black leggings, looking at herself in the mirror.

Almost there.

Her parents had offered to walk her there, but she told them that she had to do this herself. They would always be at home for her if anything. Besides; whilst the school wasn't as near as  _Collége Françoise Dupont_ , the metro was close enough, and she definitely knew her way to and from there. 

They nod, but are noticeably as nervous as she is when they hug her goodbye. Sabine beams at her, exhaling. "Good luck, bǎo bǎo." _Good luck,_   _baby._

She carries that with her to the metro station (somehow getting past her old school without anyone spotting her), and to the entrance of the school;  _École Louise Vallayer-Coster pour Les Arts_ , arching on the top of the two pillars of the main entrance. And despite visiting the school before, it seems even more imposing than back then; the complex architecture born from the French Revolution towering over her.  

A small paw rests on her arm, and Marinette glances downwards. Tikki's blue eyes look up warmly at hers, and the girl smiles. "It'll be okay, Marinette. You got this." The kwami vanishes back into her bag, lest she be seen by anyone around.

She nods, "I got this." And then, calling upon the strength and aptitude of her superhero alter-ego, and the other ladybugs before her — despite the emotional strain for these past few months; she squares her shoulders, holding her head high. She struts past the colossal carved heads at the main entrance, confidence exuding from her. This was totally different, with a hopefully different atmosphere and different people. _She's got this_.

There was a bigger population here, and she tried her best to stay confident. Some of the students in the expansive courtyard raised a questioning eyebrow at her, eyes filled with knowledge of the fact that they had never seen her before. Some of them carried themselves with an air of pride and superiority, similar to how Chloe would be most of the time and she sighed. Hopefully she wouldn't have to deal with anyone like the rich blonde.

She passed the monument in the middle of the yard, a pillar with a sculpture of Mlle. Louise Vallayer-Coster herself, and opened the doors to the main building. The ceiling overhead was like a dome, the skylight emitting through its glass panes. She glances over the pictures hung up of past students that were now renowned in their various fields. Other students walked on by, though a few were like the ones outside — their eyes questioning _who are you?_

She made her way to the principal's office, the third door on her left of this long corridor, and knocked before she walked inside.

"Ah, Good Morning Mlle. Dupain-Cheng." Monsieur Moreau warmly greeted her, his eyes even smiling behind his glasses. She returned it, giving a similar greeting. She seats herself in the visitor's chair, placing her bag on her lap. Monsieur Moreau promises her a moment, assembling some papers, and she takes the time to glance around his office once more. Various pictures of past principals were around the office, as well as multiple pictures of him with what she could only assume are students, or past ones.

She exhaled, her grip on her bag tightening. _You've got this._

He takes a seat in his chair, resting a sealed envelope on the table. "Your schedule along with the student's handbook is in here. Like I said last time you were here, you will be aided by our student representatives —"

Just then, there was a small knock on the door before it opened.

"— Ah, speaking of which: This is Mlle. Allegra Beaumont, one of your designated student reps. She's also your class representative." He gestured for Marinette to turn.

The first student representative assigned to lead her around for the first few days was quite beautiful, Marinette had to admit — she stood tall, like a ballerina at full height, her blonde hair braided back and ending at her waist. Her blazer was over what seemed to be a violet skirt, a small Quaver note pinned to her blazer's lapel. Her violet eyes appraised Marinette from where she sat, face void of expression, and Marinette gulped. Beautiful _and_ terrifying — a dangerous combination.

Marinette scrambled to stand, extending a hand. "Hi! My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng." 

Mlle. Allegra blinked, and Marinette faltered slightly at the small silence that followed, but eventually, the girl gave her a small, polite nod. "Hello, Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Like M. Moreau said, I'm gonna be leading you around the school."

She slowly nodded, she still had yet to explore the school in its entirety, let alone her own classes. She just hoped that she wouldn't be subjected to a tour with someone who didn't seem to be that inviting. But, like Tikki said, _don't be afraid_. "Thank you so much."

Monsieur Moreau leaned back in his chair, at ease. "Even though I don't think you'll need it — Mlle. Beaumont is _quite_ through on her tours, you may come to my office at any time." At Marinette's answering nod, he eyed the taller girl. "And Mlle. Beaumont, please remember to forewarn her of M. Jean-Baptiste." His eyes glazed over with a sort of tiredness, yet there was amusement in there.

The girl's expression shifted just then, and Marinette could see genuine annoyance at the man's comment. "Hopefully I can before he magics himself wherever I am."

Marinette raised an eyebrow at that, before allowing Allegra to lead her outside, saying a final goodbye to her new principal.

 

* * *

 

Her tour guide didn't take long to change Marinette's perception of her. Mlle. Allegra Beaumont was actually quite warm when she spoke more than four sentences, and she quickly apologized for her unwelcoming disposition as soon as they left Monsieur Moreau's office, noting that she had yet to consume coffee for the morning. The comment relaxed Marinette and the two girls went about the tour.

There was a certain grace to her movements, and Marinette believed that she wasn't that far off from comparing her to a ballerina earlier. She carried herself with an air unlike many of the other students that she saw in the courtyard — she had no doubt that the girl was possibly well off, but there was no superiority there. Just someone who seemed to have ingrained etiquette classes in their daily lives. 

She was also a repository of knowledge — the blonde spoke at length about the school's rich history, their clubs, specifically renowned teachers at the school and the ones to be wary of. _M. Tréville is one of the nicest teachers in the entire school, he'll probably get you a puppy if you asked for it. But Physical Education? God, Mme. Strachan and M. Dumas are terrors when it comes to their sessions._

The young designer wasn't deterred, the student had a way of speaking that Marinette couldn't help but be attentive. She found some great places she could go to if she needed to transform.

Walking with Allegra gathered many calls in the hallways from various students, to which the girl always made sure to wave back at. There was still time before the first classes of the day were scheduled to start, so Allegra made sure to take Marinette _everywhere_  near the Main Building. They ended up in a garden area, made up of tall trees and shrubbery, as well as a fountain in the middle. Various headless sculptures decorated the area, and Marinette blinked at the tranquility the garden exuded. 

"And here we have La cour d'Étienne. It's essentially a relaxation spot in-between classes so you can come here whenever you're free."

Marinette closed her eyes as the wind blew, her hair fluttering. "It's really nice here." It was the first amount of actual peace she felt for a while now.

Allegra smiled, ready to spout more information. "This was the third part of the school established way back in 1655. See, Monsieur Pierre Thomas and Mlle. Louise Vallayer-Coster had a vision, a vision that students should be able to — "

"Jesus, 'Legra. It's the girl's _first_ day, wait another week or something."

The girl, who was the picture of sophisticated grace up until this point, actually _screeched_ at the unexpected interruption. She turned to view the culprit, eventually aiming a scowl at them. "God — _just_ like you to sneak up on me. I can never escape you."

The person, who was now smirking at Allegra, was _much_ taller than her, and by extension towering over Marinette by a good half-foot. Their blue eyes were alight with amusement, and they moved to grab Allegra in a one-armed hug. The blonde scoffed, attempting to get out of their hold. 

"Monsieur Moreau stuck you with her first, huh?" They pretended as if the girl _wasn't_ trying to escape them, holding on tighter. "Makes sense, she's normally the girl every teacher assigns for things like this — teacher's pet." At Allegra's squawk, they eyed her. "Did I lie? Every single teacher in your academic career loves you. Well, except Mme. Mirolioubova."

Marinette blinked as Allegra sucked air through her teeth, turning her nose up. "That woman has _always_ had it out for me." She eyed Marinette, "I had _never_ gotten an "f" _in my life_ , except when she failed me for recess in second grade." She scrunched her features, and Marinette had to control the sudden giggles at the clear mimicking. " _Teachers need a break too, Allegra_. I _just_ wanted a question answered." And to her surprise, a pout formed on her lips, and she looked much like an indigent child in the moment.

The newcomer eyed her in amusement, causing the half-Chinese girl to bit her lips, lest her laughs come out. "The audacity."

Marinette allows a laugh to escape her at the ridiculousness of it all, making them grin in satisfaction. "I bet she made you think that she was a cold, stand-offish person, huh?" At Marinette's sheepish nod, they chuckled. "Don't worry, she's really a dork at heart. So, I assume you're Mlle. Dupain-Cheng? What class is going to be blessed with your pretty face first period?" The shameless, shameless flirting reminded her so much of her fellow partner, and like Chat Noir, they was succeeding in putting her at ease at the moment.

Allegra successfully shoved them away, though not before elbowing them harshly in the gut. "Leave the girl alone!" 

The blue-nette didn't attempt to smother her giggles. "No, no. They're not bothering me."

"Yeah, Beaumont. I'm not bothering her." They leveled a grin at her despite the slight pain, to which Allegra exhaled heavily, taking a moment to regain her composure.

"Marinette, this is Claude Jean-Baptiste — he's the person I was going to warn you about."

Claude gasped, pretending to be offended. "You and Monsieur Moreau are continuing to _slander_ my name. I have _never_ done anything wrong in my life ever."

Marinette snickered, "Even I know that's a lie."

Allegra gave a smile of approval. He gasped, although his eyes were clearly delighted, and he comically huffed. "I just came out to show you a good time and I'm feeling _so_ attacked right now."

"I apologize for him — he tends to be a lot for the new students. He's harmless though. Claude's the second representative for you today."

The boy winked, motioning a hand for her walk on. The designer smiled at the gesture, walking along with the two. "I'm the person who's gonna make you aware of things that Beaumont here isn't going to tell you — like the fact that the archives is haunted by the ghosts of former teachers, and Mlle. Louise Vallayer-Coster herself."

"It is _not_ ," Allegra bristled. " _Stop_ telling all the new students that!"

Claude made a show of ignoring her, causing the other representative to scowl. "So what brings you to our lovely  _École Louise Vallayer-Coster pour Les Arts_? Don't get me wrong, we don't mind accepting the highly praised designer who worked with Jagged Stone, but you did go to another school before this, yes?"

Marinette faltered, stuttering in her steps, and she missed the way Allegra gawked at her and questioned the veracity of Claude's words. Because of course, who was she to forget exactly why she had left? She may have vowed to erase herself from that narrative, but Lila's threats wouldn't simply go away. The denouncing gazes that every single one of her classmates threw her wouldn't go away. Alya's disbelieving, criticizing comments would never go away. That moment when Hawkmoth had her under his control as a result of that mess would _never_ leave her haunting nightmares, neither would the hot, fiery ice in her veins as she fought his power, or the rapid, _cold_ numbness she felt after she successfully forced him out — 

The grounding presence of something on her head made her blink out of her stupor, a shock of breath escaping her, and she came to Claude's face peering down at her, realizing the weight on her head for what it was — his hand. His features had changed from the open, self-satisfied and welcoming expressions he had before, to something that held the utmost concern, clear alarm in his eyes. Marinette forces her head to look next to them.

Allegra's gaze was the same, her violet eyes searching her blue ones for an answer on _what exactly was that just now_.

She straightened herself, clearing her throat. Letting out an empty laugh, Marinette attempted to walk as normal as she did before, her mind racing a mile a minute. "Sorry, I spaced out for a moment. I, uh — I want to focus on myself more. In Fashion Design. Yes. Fashion Design. I wanted to develop myself in design more, and I thought that change would be...good for me." Her fists unconsciously clenched.

Claude stared at her for a moment, brows furrowing and his blue eyes examining her. It felt like an eternity before he accepted it with a slight nod, seemingly renewed as he plastered a grin on his lips.

She relaxed.

"Well, you've come to the right school, little lady!" He patted her head once, before dropping his arm. "Here, we breathe nothing _but_ development." They walked towards the Faculty of Humanities and Languages, as first period was almost about to start. 

Marinette didn't catch the worried exchange of looks behind her head.

 

* * *

 

Her homeroom was essentially her French Language and Literature class, and she was led there by her two new acquaintances. The classroom was reminiscent of Mme. Bustier's class, from the various clusters of diverse students all over to the sheer size of the room. She stood awkwardly in the doorway — none of these faces were familiar, nor did they notice her presence, and for a moment; she couldn't help but re-imagine herself back in her old classroom. Everyone already knew each other, they already had their groups. She didn't want to invade their already established space — 

Claude patted the top of her head. "Come sit with us. We're your student representatives for the day, you really think we're gonna leave you to fend for yourself?"

Marinette exhaled, sending him a grateful smile. "Thanks."

Allegra waved her off, as she led her to the right of the classroom, to the first two rows. "The four of us usually sit here, but you can sit up front with me."

The girl nodded, shuffling into the first row. Placing her bag down, she questioned, "So — you said "the four of us". You guys have more friends?"

Claude raised an eyebrow, "You trying to say something about us, Marinette?"

Marinette bit back a smile as Allegra flicked him between his eyebrows, ignoring the yelp he made in response. "We always hang out with two other people. Both of them are going to be absent for the majority of this week though — one's in the midst of a dance workshop, while the other's simply sick. Claude gave it to him." The boy gave a sheepish smile, and Allegra continued. "We'll introduce them to you eventually."

Just then, their subject teacher walked in. She was a rather short woman, her hair twisted back braids, and the clop-clop-clop of her heels halted most of the chatter from the rest of the students. She placed her manila folder on the desk — most likely her attendance record and list of students going off from Mme. Bustier, and she gave a cheery smile towards the classroom.

"Good morning, class." She waited for the responding various greetings before continuing. "My name is Mlle. Josephine Smith, and I say that because today, we have a new student joining us." The older woman motioned a hand, "Mlle, if you'll kindly introduce yourself."

Marinette cleared her throat, hesitating before she stood. She waved a hand towards her new classmates, gathering the strength of ladybug. "Hi, everyone. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng and thank you for allowing me to be a part of your class." The various faces seemed friendly enough. Most were sending her small smiles, while a few actually sent her tiny waves.

One of them however, seemed to be eyeing her for a moment, before her eyes widened in remembrance.

"I've heard of you before. Didn't you design a hat for one of Adrien Agreste's fashion shows?" The red-haired girl pipped up excitedly, and Marinette smiled in response.

"I did actually. It was a contest by Gabriel Agreste himself."

The person, a brunette girl, next to her gasped, "Didn't you also design Jagged Stone's album cover and sunglasses?"

"Yeah, I did."

That statement caused various excited murmurs around the classroom. Mlle. Smith whistled to quiet them once more, smiling in amusement. 

"Nevertheless Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, I hope you're able to adapt into our classroom without any problems."

Marinette nodded, feeling more at ease and she sat back down as Mlle. Smith started to take the roll. During that time, Marinette asked the two to help decipher her schedule for the day, and upon taking a look at it; Claude had the first two periods with her —  Sciences de la vie et de la Terre (SVT) _,_  specifically Biology, and History. Allegra had (SVT) Geology and Geography at that time.The third period she shared with them both —  English. After that was lunch, then French, Math, Arts and Design (where students seperated to go to their preferred fields of Art) and (SVT) Biology again. Eventually, the bell rang to signal the end of homeroom, and everyone started to gather their things to leave. Allegra touched her shoulder before she left, "Sit with us at lunch, okay?"

The girl nodded, smiling, and followed Claude to their Biology class, the boy facilitating most of the conversation. 

 

* * *

 

The first three periods passed by rather quickly. The teacher, Mlle. Régina Badet, was accommodating enough; welcoming her to the class and jokingly noting that she wouldn't call on her for the week. M. Sok, her history teacher, didn't give her that luxury, and treated her like the rest of the students. Claude snorted, nudging her in the side. "It's a tactic. Depending on how well you answer these questions, he'll eventually ease off if he likes you that much."

Claude did his best to ensure that the girl didn't feel excluded, and Marinette really appreciated it. She didn't know whether or not they would become friends past this week, but she was enjoying her time with him. He reminded her so much of her partner, yet there was a clear distinction between the two. While he flirted with her, it was definitely in good fun. He flirted with her as one would ask someone for the time, and he didn't discriminate with who he flirted with either. He made eyes at some theater kid, who promptly ducked his head in bashfulness.

Marinette grinned, "You player. Just this morning, you were so in love with me, and now you go for the next set of pretty eyes you see."

"Jealous?" He had grinned, and the girl couldn't contain her laugh. "Don't beat your pretty little head, I just have a big heart with a lot of love for everyone."

Moreover, he was currently dotting on her...and it was quite reminiscent of those family reunions where her cousins would pat her head, comforting her in solidarity since they couldn't fully understand, nor communicate with Marinette's Chinese relatives either.

Chat Noir, on the other hand...his flirting always had some romantic tinge to them. Ever since that night where he had brought her civilian self to that immaculately decorated scene for Ladybug, she knew that he actually loved her. Whether or not that love was drenched in hero worship, or he actually liked _her_ as a person — despite the identity of the person under the mask, she didn't know. But she was definitely aware now. 

She hadn't seen him in a while, aside from forcing herself to deal with the occasional akuma. She would have to call a patrol soon.

English was a calm affair as well, and the two had made her feel at ease throughout the class. Lunch soon arrived, and they all walked together to the cafeteria. The cafeteria's design was a clear portrayal of the school's wealth. The natural light from outside made all the difference to what would have be dark, and depressing. With it, it was inviting, and the addition of the wall of windows overlooked the view of the Seine. The tables and seats were much more modern, the tables coloured an attractive burgundy. The food was assembled like her old school, students had to take a tray and collect their food. There were many more options though, much more enriching options that could only come from being in a private school. 

Claude snickered at her dumbfounded reaction and she blushed. Forgive her if she wasn't used to this lavishness. 

While waiting in line however, Marinette couldn't help thinking about her past friends though. Normally, she'd be chatting with Kim as he went on and on about the latest race he beat someone in, or she would have been present for Alya's latest theories concerning her superhero alter-ego. She had nearly jumped out of her skin when some girl behind her in line said "I've had way too much potatoes already." and sounded so much like Alya that it made her heart skip a beat. But it wasn't Alya. And she was both relieved and sad about it. She exhaled, gathering the last of her choice in food, before following Allegra and Claude to a table.

Somehow the conversation redirected to the earlier discussion about her accomplishments, an attempt to find out more about the young designer.

"So, I hadn't had a chance to ask you this earlier this morning. But what was it like working with _the_ Jagged Stone?" Allegra questioned, her eyes bright, and wow — she really was completely different from their first conversation. "It must have been a huge honour working with him!"

Claude eyed her from where he sat, eyes seeming to say _here we go_ , and Marinette smiled. "Oh, It was! He's a really great person to work with, and he always has a vision for every project. It's never a dull moment."

Allegra sighed, "I'll admit, I'm much more partial to Salvatore Adamo and Clara Nightingale myself. But, I can respect a fellow artist. His drive and passion for his art — "

" _God_ , you've done it now Marinette. She's gonna go on one of her tangents again." He chewed on his chicken.

The blonde huffed, aiming her fork towards him. "Shut up, Jean-Baptiste."

Marinette giggled, taking a bite of her potatoes. "You two seem like really good friends."

Allegra narrowed her eyes towards the tan boy, "I'm stuck with him."

"Unfortunately, we're related — _cousins_ actually. I had absolutely no idea that Beaumont even existed until my mother introduced us at one of our Dinner parties. She was, and still is, a brat." The girl scowled in response, chewing her vegetables pointedly.

The half-Chinese girl blinked, "Dinner parties?"

"Oh yeah, our parents usually arrange them whenever they're trying to get in the good graces of business people for future ventures. I think we had  _Anne Dias-Griffin_ and _François-Henri Pinault_ at that party. I pushed her in the fountain when we first met." He offhandedly noted, as if having wealthy socialites at their home was a normal Thursday evening. For them, it probably _was_ , now that she thought about it. 

His cousin sputtered, "You pushed me in the _lake_."

Claude waved his hands, "Semantics. The poor maid had to help her dripping self." 

Marinette shrunk in her seat. "Wow. I knew that the majority of the people here were well-off but...I'm _way_ out of my depth here." Her grip clenched around her spoon.

Allegra swiftly punched him in the shoulder, causing the boy to wince. "Idiot," she hissed, before placing a gentle hand on Marinette's shoulder. "Hey, we didn't mean to overshadow you about that. We _may_ have money, but that doesn't matter. You already sound cool to _us_ — You won a contest that was handpicked by Gabriel Agreste _himself_. You've worked with _Jagged Stone_ more than once."

" — also I'm like _eighty_ percent sure that you're related to that famous Chinese chef that was on that contest that one time. Weren't you on television with him?"

"I was."

Allegra motioned, " _See_. You certainly have accomplished a lot so far. And you're connected with some great people."

Marinette frowned, "Well I wouldn't say _that_."

Claude raised an eyebrow, "Why do I feel like you're not the type of person to take advantage of your connections?"

The girl bit her lip, while she did her best in getting opportunities pertaining to design competitions, the same could not be said for her working relationship with Jagged and Penny. Sure; they checked on her well-being every once in a while, and she had their personal numbers, but she didn't take up Jagged's offers to provide her with a more efficient working station and other benefits. She usually did her work from the comfort of her own home, and while the two had offered her an actual studio for her to work in, she didn't want to ask for too much.

Allegra waved her hand, "You're a modest person. But that adds to it all, you seem like a great person. And well, we were kind of hoping that... _maybe_  there's a possibility that we could all become friends? Or — or talking acquaintances at least, it doesn't matter."

Marinette froze, taking in the hopeful gazes of the two students. Could she do this? The wounds from  _Collége Françoise Dupont_ still hadn't fully been unearthed from within her, she still felt betrayed. She still felt bitter. She still felt _angry_. It hadn't even been a full week since her leaving, and here she was, already being presented with a call of friendship. She opened her mouth, she was somehow going to find the words to explain that she really wasn't in the proper head-space for that yet, but then Tikki's words from this morning rang again in her mind:

_Don't be afraid to make new friends again._

The girl sighed, she owed it to herself. She owed it to herself and her personal growth from her pain. It's what she _deserved_. Besides — so far, the two seemed like really enjoyable people to be around. She would just have to be more cautious this time, and not take bullshit if they wanted to try her. She had made that same mistake before. "Sure, I would like that."

Allegra's eyes brightened, before giving her a smile. "I'm glad."

"I'm saddened by that hesitation, are we _that_ horrible?" Claude's words were meant to be humourous, but his cerulean eyes bore into hers searchingly, as he leaned forward on his arms. With a blink, his contemplative expression was gone, and he grinned. Marinette shrugged it off, it was most likely a trick from the lighting. "Fair warning, you're going to have to deal with my and Allen's nonsense constantly. Are you sure you're up for the task?"

Marinette grinned, "I've had enough of a dose to know I'll survive."

He cackled loudly, gathering the attention of some students a few tables away, who simply just went back to eating. His cousin rolled her eyes, going back to her lunch, "Trust me, you _think_ that you can handle it. And then it just proves you _oh so horribly_ wrong."

"I'm an acquired taste, that's okay, not everyone can handle me."

"Not everyone has the patience."

As the two bickered back and forth, in the noise of the cafeteria from the other students, Marinette let herself lean back in her chair. She felt the familiar, comforting press of Tikki's paw against her leg, and she relaxed. This was good for her. She deserved to be surrounded by good people. Hopefully, it wouldn't end up like before.

 

* * *

 

"Now, Voltaire's _Candide —_ we're writing," Mlle. Smith eyed her class, who prepared to quickly jut down her words. "   _—_ highlights the movement that gave rise to the French Revolution and to the ideas of 18th century French philosophers. Voltaire shares the evolution of just how a man learns to think for himself and starts to free himself from commonly accepted religious beliefs and prejudices. It is an encouragement to build your own destiny and think for yourself, while also noting key ideas and philosophies of the Enlightenment." 

After lunch was French Language and Literature; and as Mlle. Smith taught on, Marinette began to think of Mme. Bustier. How was she doing, in the aftermath of it all? The woman had seemed very distraught when she came to her last Wednesday, and had done her best to do right this time. But, when the woman thought she wasn't looking, Marinette could discern the clear dejectedness in her eyes, the absolute disappointment at herself, at her lack of acknowledgement of the whole thing. Despite the girl telling her that she had forgiven her. And while Marinette would start anew, the teacher still had to go about the day with her past classmates, with the knowledge of how they had treated her, with _Lila's mere presence_  — 

She bristled, breathing multiple times to calm herself. She would just have to check up with Mme. Bustier from time to time, the woman had left her contact information with her, saying that she could come to her with anything. She could read between the lines of the woman's words, _I'll be there for you this time_.

For her Clothing and Decorative Design class; she was directed by the two to the Faculty of Creative and Festival Arts, many various buildings that held the many divisions such as:  _Fine Arts_ , which contained students particular to drawing, painting, sculpture and printmaking. There was _Film, Video & Photographic Arts_, which included studies connected to the department name. Thirdly, there was _Performing Arts_ , where students perusing Theater, Musical Performance and Singing, as well as Dance would go. And lastly, _Applied Arts_ , where students wanting to do Fashion Design and Decorative Arts (basket-weaving,ceramics, tapestry, etc.) stayed. Marinette had gawked at the many divisions when researching the school, it essentially was a like that of a university. At least the school was going to be taking her through lycée as well. 

Her classroom/work room itself was exceptionally large. Each student had their very own work station that they could leave their materials and works for assignments on; where their very own mannequin was provided for any alterations they wanted to make, as well as a personal sewing machine. There was a specific wall dedicated to winning designs of the past, designs that had gone through fashion shows, or competitions. There was also a section where the students would sit, if a specific session was for note-taking. There was a storage room, where they apparently locked specific things behind. The atmosphere at the moment was very relaxed, given that there were only ten students in the class, and quite inviting.

After introducing her to her classmates, her teacher, Marcelle Chéruit led her to her station, as the woman had been told of her new student beforehand. "Feel free to personalize around it all you want. Just don't do anything permanent to the table-top itself."

The woman went on to say that, due to having a new student; this session would be a chill day, and the students could stay here and do whatever, or go to the library. The nine other students were overjoyed, and they actually thanked the girl. " _Dieu merci_ ," a boy named Leo said. "I really wasn't in the mood for working today."

They invited her into a circle to get to know her better, and most of them questioned just how she landed working for Jagged Stone. Marinette smiled, explaining the chance opportunity, and they hung on her every word. They even played the typical icebreaker games, courtesy of the Theater class according to a girl named Chantelle, and Marinette found herself giggling throughout the activity.

At the end of the day; Marinette's head was filled with new faces and lots of information. It was much denser than her old school, but she would just have to work hard. She walked out with Claude and Allegra, and noted what must have been their ride, since as soon as the man next to it noticed them, he opened the back door. Allegra raised an eyebrow, "Would you like a ride? Considering that this school is the only one in this area, I'm guessing you were either dropped here or you took the metro."

She thought about it — by now  _Collége Françoise Dupont_ would have finished classes. And while she was lucky to avoid her old classmates this morning, she may not be so lucky now. Marinette nodded, "Thank you so much."

Claude ushered her in, "Just direct André on where to go."

She recited the address of her home for the driver —  _12 Rue Gotlib, 21st arrondissement, Paris, France_ , and he input it in the car's GPS. Upon reaching the white walls of the bakery, and noting the T and S printed in stylized font; the boy gaped. "You live in the _Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie_?"

Marinette blinked, "You've been to our bakery before?"

"We had a huge order of Macarons, Cakes, Mille-Feuilles and Croissants for one of our parties." Allegra nodded, "I'm partial to their éclairs myself."

"Oh, you must've been the Catherine Beaumont order. I helped them in preparing everything."

Claude grinned, "Artistically and culinarily gifted? You're a girl of all trades."

She exited their car, and the two students waved her goodbye, saying that they'd see her tomorrow. She made her way inside, the bell above the door signaling her entrance. There were multiple customers present, so she simply waved hello to both her mother and their newly hired employee. "Hey mama, I'm home. Hey, Martin."

The boy waved a hand in response, her mother calling out a similar greeting in the midst of dealing with a customer, and she made her way upstairs. She met her father in the kitchen, taking some water out of the refrigerator. Upon seeing her, he opened his arms for a hug, to which the girl ran into. She sunk into the warmth. "How was it, sweetheart?"

"It was actually pretty good." She leaned back far enough to look up at him. "The people seem very nice, and two people wanted to be my friends."

Tom smiled, relieved. He hugs her for a moment longer, voice gentle, "That's my girl. If there's any problems, you'll tell us, right?"

She thought about just how taken aback they were when she had broke down and told them, how distraught they were and she nodded. "Yes, papa."

Tom ushers her to her room, noting that he had to go back and help downstairs. As soon as she reaches the comfort of her room; she collapses into the comfort of her chaise, and her Kwami nuzzles her cheek. "I'm so proud of you, Marinette. You made it through the day."

Marinette closes her eyes, it was tough in the beginning, but she _did_ make it. She places a hand near Tikki, cupping her hand to stimulate a hug. "Thanks, Tikki."

"Allegra and Claude seem really nice! Maybe having them as friends will be a great thing for you."

Marinette nodded unconsciously, thinking back to their interactions throughout the day, eyeing the wall where her past pictures were once hung and says honestly, "I hope so too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have no idea who exactly the Quantic Kids are; they are concept characters from early Miraculous Ladybug development, when Ladybug and Chat Noir were going to be part of a team. Chat Noir was also someone else entirely other than Adrien, and Ladybug's civilian identity was called Bridgette/Marinetta. If you wanna know what they look like, [here's](https://66.media.tumblr.com/39876c8148ac246921815f22cd4d2ad7/tumblr_orww6rGo7b1w6s0uyo1_1280.jpg) a picture.
> 
> The names, as well as the personalities of the Quantic Kids in this are going to be the fan-favoured depictions of the teenagers, with some changes. Firstly, the fan depictions of Allegra have her be lovingly protective of Bridgette/Marinette, as well as be willing to _throw_ down for that girl. I personally do love that and will be doing something with that, but I'm characterizing her to be _loosely_ based off Amy Santiago. A girl who seems stoic but is actually a sweet girl. She's sophisticated and poise, yet will probably be the first to sit wrongly in a chair once alone with her friends. She's incredibly organizational, competitive, intelligent and resourceful.
> 
> Concerning Claude, I'm _loosely_ basing him to be the Jake Peralta to her Amy. I say loosely because the fandom head-canon of him is that he's loud and talkative. Cocky and Sarcastic, but in a comedic fashion. An absolute dramatic boy, one that would possibly do the _most_. Again, I love that, but I want a bit more depth with him. So, I'm writing him with that in mind.
> 
> I had a bit of difficulty in writing just how I wanted their friendship to progress. Because on the one hand, Marinette deserves to completely start anew. On the other hand however, she's still quite angry. She still has yet to completely get rid of every single trace of her old classmates. She's definitely told herself that she's erasing herself from that narrative, but it's a process. Eliza, having dealt with Hamilton herself (I'm speaking from the portrayal in the play, not real life Eliza Hamilton); would have separated herself from him, but based on how Burn sounds, she would have had a bit of time stewing in her anger and bitterness before she's just life with heartbreak. And there's where she cuts herself off.  
> Marinette, realistically, would take a while warming up to the possibility of new friendships. But I wanted to showcase her hesitance, while also having her make that leap in the name of not letting past experiences spoil future ones.
> 
> Also, I'm _loving_ the pure salt that's coming from the comments on the last chapter. I'll answer them soon, don't worry.  
> Thank you so much for reading and I'll see you in the next one!


	3. trois

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The introspection of two people, who have observed numerous things about their new transfer student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare yourselves for some Musical Metaphors and Terminology, written by someone who has absolutely no experience in music, and essentially researched a Glossary of Musical Terminology and Tempos for this chapter.

_Monday, April 29 th _ _—_ _École Louise Vallayer-Coster pour Les Arts, Paris, France._  
_7:05 am._

Muffled voices sounded from  _La cour d'Étienne_.

Claude walked closer, having been directed here by one of the various students, because _everyone_ knew of Allegra. And she was known to be present at the school at a _disgustingly_ early time — 6:45 am on the dot, as unaffected from the morning air as she usually was. He glanced at the clock in the corridor, it wasn't that far before first period, so Allegra must've taken the girl through the majority of the school already.

The voices drew closer, one of them perhaps a smidge consistent and filled with energy than acceptable for this hour, but given the person she was (— if he was correct in his assumption of their identity), he'd give her grace, she was always like that. One of the voices — filled with awe, was complimenting the massive size of the school. Only the words one would expect from either an important guest visitor, or a new transfer student. He caught a couple words here and there from the other person, clearly from someone who had been here a good while, about how it normally takes many new students to get used to its size.

Walking through the pillars, he spotted the familiar back of a head.

Yep, that was his Allegra. Going on and on with her usual explanation of  _École Louise Vallayer-Coster pour Les Arts_. With the new transfer student.

Now, if you asked him, Claude Jean-Baptiste would absolutely consider himself a perceptive person. He's always had an inclination of people-watching, even as a child — or, as his cousin had pointed out to him aeons ago, perched upon one of the plush reading chairs, it was called  _sondering_. She had read its meaning with an attempt of a sophisticated tilt to her tiny voice. He's always been much too aware that many had their own complexities to work out — populated with their strong, heavy ambitions. Such as the ever so cunning business people who knew that speaking to, and successfully working out an arrangement with his parents, and his dear aunt and uncle, would certainly push them in the right direction.

He would usually pick up on the many quirks to a person. Before he truly got to know one of his friends, he noted just how deadpan they were constantly. But occasionally, he catches a smirk hiding at the corner of his mouth — and that was kind of intriguing. The boy was like a particularly tricky equation, at the time, and he was determined to figure him out. _(And he did.)_

He had to be observant as he was, being the _thespian_ he was. It had been instilled in him that one had to work to the expectations and assumptions of the average audience go-er. While on stage, and for anyone trying to discern a character's emotions, he had to do little micro-expressions, or emote with a certain spark that gave any observing person some sort of hint as to what that character was feeling, or hiding.

Claude was well-aware of the image he presents to most, and to be honest, at times, it’s far easier to let people believe he’s simply loud. It gives him leverage, control — it allows him to watch and catalogue without people being any wiser. He's been taught from his mother, who was the most assertive of them all, his father, the most lively, but he was always the most observant.

Additionally, and most importantly, it was a tactic of ease.

When it came to the new transfers, he always employed his trick on the much too nervous ones. When this one girl — cute kid, much to skittish though — looked this close to seeping through the grate above the canals of the school; he played it up, bringing up the secret make-out spots that students employed in the past, bringing a laugh to the kid's face. Allegra was annoyed, but he could see in her eyes that she knew what he was doing.

So, smiling a little to himself; he walked up behind them and reflexively interrupted Allegra's spiel. Her face immediately set in lines of long-suffering endurance, trying her best to escape his grip. And it's there, after gently teasing Allegra, when he directly says his first words to famed Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Really meant to be an ice-breaker, just to put her at ease, because there were many tells that she wasn't relaxed yet — her shoulders were _much_ too stiff, and her eyes were slightly anxious. Also, she was pretty cute.

"So, I assume you're Mlle. Dupain-Cheng? What class is going to be blessed with your pretty face first period?" He was quite aware of the girl's numerous achievements — such her collaboration with Jagged Stone, and her participation in Gabriel Agreste headed competitions. But then, why would she be transferring _this_ _late_ in the school year? It was basically _June_. From the past transfers that he's overseen with Allegra, he eventually found out that the ones that transferred at a late time mostly did so due to their past schools being constricting environments, whether on their academics or social wise. Therefore, whatever she says would provide useful information. Whatever she says would add to more tells.

She laughed off his words, and unlike some of the new students, she doesn't showcase any of the subtle cues that tell that she's interested in him based on this conversation alone. _Thank god_ , because that wasn't his intention with any of them. "No, no. They're not bothering me."

Mlle. Dupain-Cheng also seemed to be _quite_ sassy — there was a glint in her eyes, something exasperatedly amused that could _only_ come from someone who was well-acquainted with a person as outwardly exuberant as him, "Even _I_ know that's a lie." The amused tilt of her lips was a hint of something cheeky. Her eyes follow his sweeping movements with mirth, and she relaxes a little bit more.

"I'm the person who's gonna make you aware of things that Beaumont here isn't going to tell you — like the fact that the archives is haunted by the ghosts of former teachers, and Mlle. Louise Vallayer-Coster herself." Marinette grinned at that, and he nodded inwardly, _so far so good_.

"It is  _not_ ," Allegra bristled. " _Stop_  telling all the new students that!"

He smirks to himself, it was never hard to aggravate the girl. "So what brings you to our lovely  _École Louise Vallayer-Coster pour Les Arts_? Don't get me wrong, we don't mind accepting the highly praised designer who worked with Jagged Stone, but you did go to another school before this, yes?"

He’s  _good_  at picking up non-verbal communication. So, he noted the way she paused at what should have been a simple question. He noted the way her fists had clenched as she stayed silent, her breathing growing much heavier, and the way her eyebrows had narrowed, essentially shadowing her eyes. Almost as if...she was..upset? No,  _angry_  was a better word for what he was seeing.

Claude brought a hand on her head to ground her, because really  _what should he do_ , to bring her back to the present. Whatever was making her upset at a simple question must have been  _horrible_. Her eyes are wide, when she remembers that she's on a tour, and that she had gone to wherever she went. Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng straightened herself, clearing her throat to give a vacant laugh. Then, her choice of words, as well as her disposition, made him really think.

"I, uh — I want to focus on myself more. In Fashion Design. Yes. Fashion Design. I wanted to develop myself in design more, and I thought that change would be...good for me."

He eyed the way her fists had clenched after saying  _would be good for me_ , a tell showcased that what she said wasn't quite correct. Or at least, that it wasn't the full reason.

He’s  _good_  at unspoken motivations. And he’s  _really_  good at finding out the story. And just from using all of those talents, he'll work out just how to align the numerous fragments of Mlle. Dupain-Cheng into one coherent whole. And just from contemplating this little fragment of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, he _knows_ that something's off. Because while her reason is a plausible one, no one reacts like  _that_  just from wanting to develop themselves more. No, as a result to his words, her body language was immediately closed off. _Defensive_. As if she was prepared for one of them to question her.

Then; after noting her stiffening stature, Claude sees her sky-blue eyes shifted to contain a hint of fear, as if to say  _please don't push please don't push please don't push_ — she absolutely wasn't ready to disclose just why she had left. And this, this along with all her other tells, _alarms_ him. Because there's a slight hypothesis forming in his thoughts, a saddening one, but he doesn't have anything concrete to support it. But he's _seen_ this sort of behaviour before, one of his long-time friends depicted this very same underlying aura of anger and sadness when speaking of his old school. And if Mlle. Dupain-Cheng's reasons for her leaving were similar to his reasons for leaving — 

But, it isn't his place. The girl _just_ got here, just met them both, and it wasn't his or Allegra's place to know any of those details. No matter how many of the unfortunate boxes her behaviour's ticking. She clearly wanted a fresh start, to leave everything concerning that matter behind, and he wasn't going to try and force her to let loose any of those feelings she was clearly keeping locked up. It _wasn't_ Claude's place.

So, he plasters a grin on his lips, not a genuine one but enough to get her off the defensive.

And it works — her shoulders relax as soon as he does so.

He gives her one last comforting pat on the head, as he won't do more than that. "Well, you've come to the right school, little lady! Here, we breathe nothing  _but_ development." Marinette walks a little ahead of him, seemingly hopeful.

He eyes his cousin with a meaningful look, and she understands. Allegra's worried eyes glance back at his, and he can tell that they're on the same wavelength.

They'll talk about this _later_.

 

* * *

 

 _Room 04 · The Performing Arts Wing, The Faculty of Creative and Festival Arts,_ _École Louise Vallayer-Coster pour Les Arts._  
_1_ _0:05 am._

A soft melody fills the air of one of the music rooms while everyone kept busy — a beautiful adagio. She could visualize the story that Amélie was currently playing on the room's piano: The persona's life was once filled with warmth, and they went through life with stars in their eyes, content. But then, there was a shift, and Amélie's notes turn from something capriccioso to gradual forte — _something_ changes, something strong and _damaging_. It's swift and rapid, stringendo, and there's no way for the persona to have even seen it coming. And then, at it's height, at it's _loudest_ ; it drops to pianissimo. It's laced with feeling, something sorrowful, there's a hint of bitterness in there — the persona is heartbroken by the entire thing. And then, there was the hints of furiousity there, the fuoco prominent more towards the end — the persona's heartbreak gradually turns to anger.

Allegra thinks the girl's song is great, but as she overhears her teacher's comment she agrees with the man's words. There's no explanation as to what happened to the persona to result in the change in emotions. Granted, that could've very well been the point, it could have been up to the listener to empathize with the piece and place their own circumstances to it. But usually, there was a hint of an explanation — the early stage could have been accompanied by appassionato, or amore, to signify that a relationship could have been the cause. 

She exhales, since her Geography teacher was absent for the day, she decided to go to her usual music room to do some sort of work. Every other music student, who also had the period free, were in the midst of focusing on their own pieces. However, she couldn't focus on hers. She could afford to, she supposed, she was sure that her piece was perfect — Monsieur Bernard even expressed his satisfaction during her last practice. She would just have to put make sure later today. What her mind was currently on, was her new classmate: Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Marinette seemed like a nice girl in the short time she took to show her around. Her aura was subdued, reserved, and pleasant, something that was constant in most transfer students. And it certainly didn't help that she had made the poor girl even more nervous. But after a quick apology from her, the girl was much more relaxed and even engaged her into questions about the school. Allegra didn't have to do most of the talking.

Then Claude appeared, and she did relax a bit more — _everyone_ relaxed around Claude. But then Claude asked about the reason for her transfer to  _École Louise Vallayer-Coster pour Les Arts_ , and she trailed off from her surprise at the fact that the girl apparently worked for _Jagged Stone_ , because  _something_ changed.

Marinette's disposition suddenly shifted to something pianissimo, more than it already was. Her response was akin to the abrupt mashing of piano keys that Allegra's become accustomed to hearing in the music room. She became stiff, her melody turning feroce, inflamed, _angry_. Allegra moved forward to see her more — from the side, she could see that her eyes were downwards, eyebrows furrowed. But then Claude soothed her soft, upset tempo — like he usually tended to do, and she relaxed. Marinette drew her eyes to hers, and they were filled with panic, her tempo adagissimo.

The girl straightened herself, attempting to make her melody go leggiero. She cleared her throat, gave a rather empty laugh and said, "Sorry, I spaced out for a moment. I, uh — I want to focus on myself more. In Fashion Design. Yes. Fashion Design. I wanted to develop myself in design more, and I thought that change would be...good for me."

But the anger was still there, underlying, before something else became in relievo — Allegra caught the protruding lacrimoso in her melody. And she eyed Claude, who was already glancing her way, _Don't push her for answers_. He raised an eyebrow,  _Later?_ And she nodded, _we're gonna talk about this later_.

Throughout the day, the interaction stayed in her mind, because she has absolutely no idea how to explain Marinette's song. What could've possibly happened for the girl to go from nervous, with a hint of scherzando, to absolutely upset. The thing that had tipped her off was her old school, but what could've been so _horrible_? While few of past transfer students came from somewhat toxic circumstances, she would hate to think of that for the girl.

Allegra can _feel_   her melody getting inquieto. She wanted to question the girl, wanted to pick out the problem so she could process it, analyse it, and solve it by whatever means necessary, all while providing comfort in anyway that she could. She was never one to stand still when there was a problem. But Claude had given her that look for a _reason_ , had eyed her with as much seriousness as he could muster — it _wasn't_ her place to ask. 

She grumbled, deflating because he was right, as always. It _wasn't_ her place, because if Allegra was reading the girl correctly, she wanted to start anew. And her asking, pushing, prodding at whatever sort of wound Marinette had wouldn't do anyone any good. And she _still_ wanted to help in any way possible, but she _couldn't_. Not without causing some sort of damage.

The blonde sighed, leaning back into the lounging chair. Damn Claude for being so perceptive.

There was a vibration in one of her blazer pockets, and she fished out the device. There was a message from none other than her ever-omniscient cousin, who just so happened to sense that he was being thought of. She eyed Amélie at the piano, trying to figure out how to tailor her song to their teacher's suggestion, and opened the messenger:

  

 _PM between **Allegra** and **Claude**_  
_10:15 am._

something tells me that you're worrying   
 _(10:15 am)_

 

She scowled.

 

Aren't you supposed to be in History right now?   
 _(10: 16 am)_

took a bathroom break _(10: 16 am)_  
meet me outside? _(10:16 am)_

 

She stares down at the message for a moment before eyeing her belongings — they should be fine here, it was always safe in the music room. She tells Monet that she's leaving her stuff behind, just in case, and they wave their assent. She opens the music room door, and upon looking to the left, sees Claude leaned up against the wall, doing something on his phone. His eyes leave it to trail up to hers, and he pockets the device. Allegra shakes her head, "A bathroom break, huh?"

He grinned, "It's on the way. And I'm not missing anything, you know that."

She did, he was never behind on his studies.

They walked until they reached  _La cour d'Étienne_ , the rushing water from the fountain punctuating the still air. There were no teachers or security guards patrolling the areas to ensure that students were in their classes. Claude gets straight to the point, raising an eyebrow towards her. "You invited her to lunch."

She shifts where she sat on the bench, saying slowly, "I did."

He allows a knowing smile on his lips, "Just like you to adopt the new students."

But Allegra considers his melody, one that she's able to decipher after how many years of knowing each other. His nervousness is ostinato, quite espressivo. "Only me?"

He closes his eyes and drums his fingers on the stone bench seat, the wind fluttering his brown hair. It's a moment before he speaks again, voice low. "She reminds me of Al'." The blonde's eyes widen, immediately turning her head to him. He doesn't do the same, still glancing forward, though his eyes seemed to focus on nothing in particular.

"Are you sure?"

He nods, "I made sure that she wasn't alone throughout class — she's  _adorable_. But she keeps to herself so...I don't know. Usually, I would just chalk it up to first day nervousness but..." His hand gestures in the air, and she knows he's referring to what happened earlier with Marinette. "She wouldn't be the first transfer student to leave that situation."

It  _would_  make sense. Allegra stares down at her feet. There are some ants following each other with bits of food on their backs, all in single file. Yet, some of them are wayward, adjacent to the others. "Maybe it's because she's worked with someone famous? Jealously is usually what leads to it." She seemed to have gone to a public school before, perhaps one of those awful children cornered her constantly. Maybe it was more than one.

"'Legra — "

"Or maybe it's because she's won those contests? With a prominent figure like Gabriel Agreste, I could only imagine — "

" _Allegra_." She flinches, and glances up to see Claude turned towards her, eyes serious yet understanding. "It's _not_ our place."

She _knows_. She knows it's not. But she's not content with that. She hadn't know the girl for long, but Marinette seemed too sweet for that. She breathes out noisily. "So we just sit and do _nothing_? We've _never_ done that with Allan, or Rosette, or Beau, or — "

"You know I'm not saying that." His voice is leveled unlike hers, and his melody is slow and calm against her agitato. "We can't just make her talk about something that she _doesn't want_ _to_.  You _saw_ her, I don't even think _she's_ even unpacked all of it. She'd just retreat into herself if you push, and that won't help her any. She's a _person_ , not one of your original music pieces to reconfigure."

She straightened, "I _never_ said that!"

Claude's words were soothing, "I know you didn't. But you _do_ understand what I'm saying, right? We can guess all we like, but she doesn't have to give us any answers. She seems as if she just wants to start over, and what she needs right now are some people to surround herself with." He eyed the fluttering of two birds near the fountain, one of them shaking their feathers free from the stray droplets. "Be there for her until she feels as if she can walk on her own — like friends. If she wants to stay, she will and if she doesn't, she won't."

With all of the new transfers, they were always with them as situational friends. Most of them turned into good friends and classmates, even if they weren't best friends, and some didn't, due to being in other classes — yet they never shied away from the two whenever they came across them in the halls, they were still good acquaintances. One of them even turned into their close friend. He was right, as always. She knew he was. She eyes the ants at her feet, they were all now following each other. "Like we've done before."

He nods and she subsequently exhales, "I suppose I'll extend the request for friendship then. And _possibly_ introduce her into our circle?" Their friends were understanding, and never minded, so this wouldn't be an issue.

"We'll tell them this afternoon." Claude eyes her, "If she looks as if she doesn't want to — "

"Back off, I know." 

He nods in satisfaction, eyes back to the birds at the fountain. A comfortable silence lapse between them until she cranes her head to look at the clock in-between one of the pillars. She fumbles to get up, while Claude nonchalantly raises an eyebrow at her haste. "Oh no, it's _way_ past the time for English! And we need to show her where the English room is." 

He stops her with a hand on her shoulder, not even hiding his amused grin. "You go get your things. _I'll_ lead her to the English room."

There's a tilt to her lips, and Allegra can't help the comment, "Providing that you don't get in trouble from Monsieur Sok for skipping his class."

Claude shrugged, eyes alight. "He can't prove a damn thing."

And then they separate, having arrived at an understanding, their melodies equally determined — _deciso_ , their tempos marcia moderato.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (can you tell that I've rewritten this chapter _multiple_ times and yet i'm still not happy with it?)
> 
> (i'm not even kidding — so many things were supposed to be in this chapter but it was too much so i just.......
> 
> ctrl + alt + delete)
> 
> So, the reason for these musical metaphors and terminology is due to the fact that Allegra's chosen Performing Art is Music. I deliberated whether to have her be a singer, or a musician (especially since [this](https://66.media.tumblr.com/05d1e3ebf6ad3f48667772dbbdc078db/tumblr_p3erhpBgYt1w6s0uyo1_540.png) concept art shows her to be playing a flute), but I ultimately went the musician route — making her a flautist (or flutist if you're American). She can still sing however. I hope the use of the terminology is somewhat understandable.
> 
> Chapters like this will be few and far in-between, since this story's focus is mainly Marinette and the fallouts she has to deal with. This was just to show a bit of characterization for Claude and Allegra. 
> 
> Thank you so much for the feedback, and I'll see you guys with the next chapter.


	4. quatre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She would have to call Marinette after this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French Translations:
> 
> la vache — many meanings, and many English speakers directly translate it to mean “Holy Cow!” However, in this context, it can be used to mean "Oh my god!", "Oh, crap!" or "Damn!"  
> merde — shit  
> salut — an informal greeting that is usually used for your peers to mean "Hi!" or "Hey!". Much like "aloha" in Hawaiian, the word also depends on the context. And "salut" can also mean "Bye", "See you", and "So long."
> 
> (also I apologize for the incoming lengthy end notes, oof.)

_Friday, June 3 rd _ _— Through the streets of Paris, France._  
_8:50 am._

" _Sorry_! Sorry, sorry — _merde_. I'm really sorry!"

She didn't mean for this to happen. Nope, absolutely not. She did not want this to happen _at all_. But it did.

And boy, was it royally screwing her _up right now_.

Today was quite reminiscent of her past mornings for Collége Françoise Dupont ; in which she once again slept through her alarm, fell out of bed with hardly enough time to eat breakfast and run to school. This slight difference? Instead of her usual outfit that she would have worn, she only had enough time to throw on simple blue hoodie with jeans.

To _add_ to the problematic situation, the difficulty was increased due to the fact that she needed to get to school using the freaking metro. Which landed her being sandwiched between multiple nine to five workers dressed in their business causal attire, her hoodie and their closeness adding to overwhelming heat for the entire ride. In her rush; she sprinted past the intersection — causing a few cars to honk in offense — to which, she called out a quick apology. Additionally; _everybody_ in all of Paris seemed to be occupying the sidewalk she was attempting to sprint, leading Marinette to aggressively bump into countless Parisians. Most of them swear in response, and she hurriedly apologized to those she couldn't help but collide into.

Marinette zipped past the school entrance gates, her heart lodged in her throat. As late as she usually ended up being at her old school, she couldn't afford to do it here. The teachers, as nice as they mostly seemed, would definitely not let her get away with her late entrances. Especially when it was only a few days into her first week. She was lucky enough that the school still accepted her, and she had promised herself, as well as the principal that she would be able to reach on time.

Honestly, she was _way_ too aspirational sometimes.

Somehow, despite the time, there was still a good amount of students walking around in the main courtyard, some that she even recognized from her new class were walking on the large cemented path. She couldn't understand why — Monsieur Colombe was strict concerning time, he'd made that very aware during her past classes. Marinette was almost towards the monument of Mlle. Louise Vallayer-Coster herself, when she collided with someone yet again, only this time, she ended up stumbling backwards.

Squawking, she flailed, and braced herself for impact on the poured concrete.

However, her painful descent was prevented by something catching her before she landed. And, after a moment of realizing that she _hadn't_ fallen flat on her ass; did she open her eyes to glance around, and realize three things:

One, she was only _this_ close from hitting the ground.

Two, her head was absolutely _throbbing_ from her violent crash.

And three, she was currently being held up by a pair of strong, steady arms, and against a broad chest.

Blinking at the wall of a jean-jacket covered chest, a teal shirt on the inside; Marinette brought her eyes up to the owner's face. Golden-brown eyes stared into her blue ones, worry and concern in them. Orange and black headphones were around his neck, and coily hair fluttering slightly. His eyes roamed her face for any sign of something wrong.

" 'm glad I caught you." The dark-skinned boy said, voice with a slight accented tilt to it, effortlessly bringing her back into a standing position. "Are you okay? You could've really gotten hurt."

Marinette nods, straightening her clothes. Some students glanced over them curiously before redirecting their attention to whatever they were doing before. "I'm fine, thanks."

"You're in a hurry," the girl turned her head and noticed Claude just then, standing a little away from them. He didn't seem alarmed at her near slip up, sipping some drink in a lavish packaging, eyeing her in unconcealed amusement. She narrowed her eyes, it was slowly starting to become comfortable to playfully snark at him. "Where's the fire?"

The young designer then furrowed her eyebrows, "Don't we have a double of Math right now?"

Claude blinked in confusion, before smacking his forehead in realization. " _La vache_ , we forgot to tell you. Sorry Marinette, we usually have the two periods free. Monsieur Colombe usually can't make it this early."

Marinette took a moment to pause at that, the perilous events of her morning up to this point running through her head. Her brain was internally screaming at the fact that she really had traveled _all_ this way in haste, pushing people out of her way accidentally — she's pretty sure she almost tripped a poor child, not eaten enough of her breakfast —  her father's _deliciously made pancakes_ , for _nothing_.

She attempted to hide the most likely high-pitched whine that threatened to leave her throat and said, her voice weak, "It's okay."

It didn't seem to work, given the way Claude's eyebrows furrowed in concern, but then — 

"Wait — _Marinette_?" The other boy's eyes widened, "As in, _our new classmate_ Marinette?"

She nodded slowly, and Claude took that moment to spontaneously extend his arm that wasn't holding the drink, voice dropping to the ombre of a TV-show announcer. "Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, may I introduce you to your saviour, Monsieur Allan Montgomery. He's the one that was stuck in the dance workshop."

Allan Montgomery gave a polite wave, "It's nice to finally meet you, Marinette. Allegra and Claude already told me so much about you."

Marinette furrowed her brows, _finally? already?_ She eyed Claude, "Really? I haven't heard that much about you." Claude gave nothing away, only taking a swig of his drink once more, eyes blank.

It was only after a moment when Marinette realized that her words might have been considered rude, and she winced. Her fatigue really wasn't going to be considerate on her basically functioning today huh? "I — I mean! Sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I just — "

But Allan shook his head, no offense visible in his eyes, and he simply raised a single eyebrow towards Claude, voice dry and amused, "So 'm not good enough to get a proper pre-introduction? Wow Claude, I thought we _really_ had something special." The effect was heightened by the folding of his arms.

He huffs a laugh, "You were gonna see her today anyway, so I didn't bother." Then, Claude's demeanor shifts into something flirtatious, voice dropping low. "You _know_ that I would never pass up the oppurtunity to speak on and on about you, sweetheart." Yet, there was nothing inherently amorous or tender about it, it seemed to just be Claude being himself.

"Mmm-hmm," was all Allan simply said before pointedly turning his body away, redirecting his attention to her. "Well now, you'll have tons to speak about me since you'll be alone for the day." Claude choked on air, affronted, and Allan looked at her, an amused glint in his eyes. She smiled. "Make sure to make me sound good."

" _Allan_!" He was aghast, contrite, and playfully so. Some students around curiously eyed the interaction, a few with entertained grins. "Allan, you know I didn't mean to!"

And instead of sympathy in Allan's voice, there was mocking indifference, "Excuses, excuses."

Marinette eyed their banter. So this was  _another_ person she had to contemplate. Throughout the week, she found herself mostly hanging around Claude and Allegra, while still trying to assimilate into her new class. And even though they extended the offer of friendship, even though she was enjoying their company, Marinette was well aware of the effects of being faced with a new environment: You seek familiarity. And the novelty of familiarity can only last for so long. Things can change. _People_ can change.

So, as much as she hoped that things would be better, she had no guarantee for that. With the addition of more people — people who have already been long-term friends by the sound of it, there was only so much one would spend on the new transfer kid. So this — whatever they had right now — may not last, or even develop further.

But she had promised Tikki — had promised herself that she wouldn't let her bad experience dictate future ones. So all she could do was wait, and observe. Allan _seemed_ nice enough. And yet, so had her old classmates when they all first met: Juleka, Alix, Nino, _Alya_ —

Marinette pushed down _that_ pang of hurt. Now was _not_ the time to deal with that. The adrenaline had finally worn off, fatigue taking its place — she was too tired for it.

" _How am I to go on without you_?"

Allan waved him off, "You'll survive somehow." He then turned to her, gesturing for her to walk first. She adjusted the bag on her back, stepping forward. "So, Mlle. Marinette, I heard that you're a fashion designer?" Claude trailed next to them, a pout on his lips.

"Well — an aspiring one anyway." She waved off the statement. "I still have a long way to go."

Claude scoffed as they reached the front door entrance, pushing the doors open. "You've _literally_ won a contest headed by Gabriel Agreste and had your design worn by his son. I think you've gotten a good mile more than others."

As assuring as the statement should have been, she was limited from doing _anything else_ pertaining to fashion design. She tried her best to creatively make do with what she could afford, and also, "Are you telling me that people here _don't_ go to local and internationally exclusive fashion shows?" She could only _dream_ of attending anything like Paris Fashion Week, of being in the presence of such high profile brands like _Dior_ , or _Chanel_ , or even _Louis Vuitton_ and _Givenchy_ , and American and Parisian designers alike. She had to settle for catching the highlights from online articles, or YouTube videos that somehow got actual clips from the event.

Claude deflated at that, staying silent because really, she was absolutely right. A laugh escaped Allan, and his eyes were incredibly delighted. "Thank god, finally — _someone else_ that I can complain with about all these damn rich people. There aren't that many people like me in our class — can't help but feel out of my depth sometimes, yunno?"

She could empathize — passing through the halls and talks of maids, chauffeurs and lavish parties was enough to disconcert anyone. "Tell me about it," she murmured.

The three of them made their way to the library, the room marked with a plague in a stylized inscription adjacent to its doors: _La Bibliothèque Étudiante Pierre Thomas_ (The Pierre Thomas Student Library), followed with a brief history and vision of the room's inception. Marinette halted her steps in the doorway, gazing around the room in muted awe. The room was quite grand, with wooden bookshelves containing numerous books as far as the eye could see. There was an upstairs portion to it as well, accessible by multiple staircases. Most of the sitting areas seemed to be in the middle of the room, yet there seemed to be some in-between the rows of bookshelves. The chairs looked plush, and the few students that were in here were either in the midst of reading or studying, or speaking with their respective friends.

Allan noted her gaping, not bothering to hide his smile. He wrote his name in the student's book, "Damn rich people, huh?"

Marinette blew her bangs from her face. She hadn't had a reason to enter the library for the past few days, so one could excuse her surprise at what she saw. She quickly wrote her name down.

Claude walked on ahead, eyes seeming to be scanning for something. A few of her other classmates caught her eye, sending her polite waves, which she returned. Once he spotted what he was looking for, he gestured for the two to follow him. He lead them to a table where Allegra and a pale blond-haired boy was sitting, seemingly in the midst of a conversation. His eyes caught them approaching first, slowly marking the page of the book in his hands. Allegra followed his line of sight, and she smiled in greeting, demure and pleasant. "Salut, Marinette! Allan."

The two of them returned with a greeting of their own, while her cousin scowled, "It's too early to be a brat."

The boy Allegra was originally sitting with raised a single eyebrow, tone dry. "It's after nine."

" _Too early_."

The boy simply shrugged, eyes half-lidded, "Not our problem that you're not a morning person." Allan simply watched the interaction, leaning backwards into his chair amusedly. His cousin only exhaled heavily, placing her head in propped up hand as she observed — clearly, this was a usual occurrence.

" _Unbelievable_ — you're gone for four days and you come back and you immediately start hating on me."

"Gone for four days because _you_ contaminated me with your germs." He calmly said, "I'm still sick by the way."

"Allan, do you _see_ this?" Claude gestured wildly, "Our friends are being _unbelievably_ rude before ten!"

Said boy was currently fiddling with his headphones, not even sparing him a glance. "Marinette, Allegra, you hear something?"

"You know what, Allan? I actually do not."

Affronted, he throws his hands up and speaks before Marinette could even answer. Then again, perhaps that was a good thing considering that she was absolutely going to answer in the negative. She wasn't even bothering to hide her amusement. "I don't need _any_ of this." He dropped himself into his chair, arms folded. "Marinette wouldn't treat me like this."

"You haven't even give her the chance to do so." The blond-haired boy pointed out, and he scowled.

Allegra sent her a smile, placing a hand out in introduction. "Marinette, this is Félix, another one of our friends."

"I'm second guessing that classification." Claude quipped.

The blond-haired boy — Félix — appraised her from where he sat, expression passive. He, like many of the students at the school, dressed in a way that seemed to emulate his background. His sage sweater with a dress shirt underneath, combined with the combed-back hair made him look every bit of sophisticated, but not out of place with the school. And yet, despite him looking every bit as different in appearance, despite his light blueish-gray that could never be green ones; his facial features were shaped like someone quite familiar. Someone like...

Like Adrien.

Félix hesitantly glanced towards the others in confusion, blinking at her staring before attempting a, "Um, hello?"

There was a slight nudge, to pointedly snap her out of whatever she was in, and she jumped. Claude eyed her from where he sat and she blanched, " _Sorry_ , sorry. It's nice to meet you." She extended her hand quickly in an attempt of politeness, and he did the same, hesitating a bit before shaking it slowly. Marinette exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment. "I'm just... I'm just _really_ tired. And you just reminded me of...someone I used to know."

He stared at her wordlessly, and the glint in his eyes shifted to...what she could only describe as _understanding_. But at what, she had no idea. And before she could ponder it further, Allegra leaned forward in her vision, her eyes narrowed in concern.

"Tired? Would you like one of us to get you a coffee or something from one of the stations?"

She shrunk slightly as all their eyes were now focused on her. "N — _no_!" She waved her hands. "No, no — I'll be fine. I'll wake up eventually."

Claude nodded once, leaning back into his chair. "You came in such a rush this morning. You travel using the metro, right? How come you don't use the school's shuttle service?"

Principal Moreau had recommended it to her parents back at their meeting before her first week, given the distance from her house to here. But, Marinette at the time had felt that she would be able to make it without any problems. Oh, how naive of her. "I thought I wouldn't need it," she drooped slightly in her seat. "I guess I should probably put myself on the register." 

There would be benefits, she wouldn't have to walk past her old school again. She needed to speak with Principal Moreau.

"By the way," Allan started. "How's your first week been? I know for me it was pretty overwhelming."

"It's been okay, everyone seems nice so far." Marinette said. "I just never thought that the different Art departments would be so _big_." She _still_ wasn't used to room for Clothing and Decorative Design class, and she still had yet to really personalize her work station.

Félix raised an eyebrow, "What art are you focusing on?"

This was good, she could have a lengthy conversation with new people about this. "I'm focusing on Fashion Design. I still have a lot to learn, but I try my best to experiment with different things, like shirts, and hats, and bags and stuff."

Allegra smiled, "Do you wear any of your designs? What do you usually like to make?" 

"I usually do — a lot of my clothes are ones that I've sown." Marinette contemplated, "I'm partial to jewelry really, but I really just like creating things."

Félix regarded her for a moment, "How resourceful of you."

She slowly nodded. Félix was making an attempt within the conversation, despite not saying much. He seemed to be pretty stoic, though that could have been due to her being a newcomer. She couldn't fault him. "What about you guys?" She knew that Claude was focused on Theater, and Allegra in Music. Allan was noted to be part of a dance workshop so...

"You already know that I'm a  _thespian_."Claude grinned, ignoring the responding groans from his friends. "But yeah, I'm really drawn to all types of stage acting — plays, musicals, it doesn't matter."

Allan smiled, "Claude's _amazing_. Y' should see him up on stage, he's a natural."

The brunet waved him off, "Oh stop, Allan." But then he grinned, and Marinette couldn't help her smile. "I'm joking, keep going."

"I'm much more on the musical side of the Arts." Allegra cut in, "I'm an enthusiast of classical music and instruments, and I'm a flautist myself."

"She can also sing," Allan cut in.

Claude snorted, muttering, "If you can call that screeching singing."

The blonde eyes her cousin for a moment, eyes narrowed. Had it not been for where they currently were, and possibly because of Marinette herself, the blue-nette didn't doubt that she would have throw something at him. Marinette wouldn't have thought Allegra to be the sort of person to deviate from her reserved nature, but then she remembered her first encounter with the girl. She wasn't simply demure. The designer smiled, "What about you, Allan?"

The boy grinned, "I'm a dancer. I've just always like to move, ever since I was a baby — or so my mom says anyway."

Félix nodded, "Allan's participated in  _Juste Debout_ already." Marinette's eyes widened.  _Juste Debout_ was a big event, an international dance competition held in multiple countries as well as France, that focused on street dance styles. There was somewhat of a proud note in Félix's voice, and Allan subsequently became bashful.

" _Whoa_."

"I _still_ can't believe you didn't place first." Claude scoffed.

Allan shook his head, "The people who won were so much better. I was jus' glad for the experience."

Allegra then gestured to Félix, "And Félix here is simply  _sensational_ on the piano."

He scoffed, eyes downwards. "I'm hardly any good."

"Please, don't let him fool you." Claude cut in. "Once, he played a piece that actually made me cry — it was _beautiful_."

"Making you cry isn't that hard of a feat," Félix quipped, but there was a slight tilt to his lips, his eyes cast downwards — he was absolutely _flattered_. 

"Y' should hear him play sometime," Allan grinned, having caught the same thing she did. "He and Allegra are usually in the same music room."

Marinette would've politely said that she would like to, had it not been for the sharp vibration of her phone in her pocket. "Sorry," She fished it out, hurriedly answering it before it stopped ringing. "Hello?" 

The voice at the other end had her freeze in her seat, catching the attention of Claude. He observed the way she paused before glancing around at them all, before standing up, "E — Excuse me — I have to..." He waves a hand, watching as she walked far away from them, close to the library entrance.

Félix watches her walk away as well, and they make eye-contact.

Allan smiles at where she once sat, "She's cute. Like a tiny, impressionable newborn baby."

Allegra nods slightly in agreement, "Ugh. I almost offered her a ride with us on the afternoons, since she took it up Monday."

The blond raised an eyebrow, leaning back into his chair. "It was possibly for the best that you _didn't_. You could've made it seem as if you were doing it because she's new, or because she's not as well off as us. And that wouldn't be beneficial for any of us." Claude is glad that Félix was as perceptive as he was.

The girl straightened at his words, and Allan nodded, "He's right. If any of you 'ad offered me that during my first week, I would've steered _clear_ from you guys."

His cousin exhaled heavily, placing a hand to her face for a moment. "Thank goodness I didn't then."

Claude hummed, eyeing where Marinette stood. She seemed distressed while she spoke with whomever was on the other side of that conversation. She then ended her call, standing still for a few moments before walking back over. She was much straighter, and her fingers drummed on the top of the study table — whatever she had just heard had somewhat worried her.

Despite that, she aimed a small, polite smile at everyone. "Sorry, you guys." Marinette then directed her attention to Félix. "So, how long have you been playing piano?"

Claude leaned back into his chair, cataloging that for later, focusing on his friend's answer instead.

 

* * *

 

 _Madame Bustier's Class ·_ _Collège Françoise Dupont, Paris, France._  
_9:10 am._

Tap. Tap. _Tap. Tap._

Caline's pen constantly hit the edge of her table irritably, its obnoxious clicking matching the pounding in her head. The woman was restless as she scanned over her report to submit to Monsieur Damocles, her eyes _this_ close to glazing over, and she passed a hand through her reddish-orangish hair. It was out for the day, since she couldn't bother placing it in her usual bun.

She had been mostly committed to this report over the past few days, and thanks to Marinette's account; she had detailed every single activity in Mlle. Lila Rossi's lies and bullying:

 

_On April 24, 2019, one Mlle. Lila Rossi cornered Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng in the girl's restroom. According to Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, she attempted to request that Mlle. Rossi stop lying about numerous details — including but not limited to, a hearing disability, which Mlle. Rossi has used to rearrange the classroom seating arrangements. This led to Mlle. Dupain-Cheng to be designated to the back, and separated away from her peers._

_However, according to Mlle. Dupain-Cheng's account, Mlle. Rossi instead gave her an ultimatum: to stop trying to prove that she was lying, and go along with everything, or she would forcibly ensure that Mlle. Dupain-Cheng lose any friendships that she held within the class. This has led to Mlle. Dupain-Cheng almost being akumatized numerous times, and  —  as she did not go along with Mlle. Rossi's demands — the quite negative outlook of her former classmates, all of which, were the reasons for her departure._

 

Pertaining to her supposed hearing disability, Caline had survey the girl's school file —  there was _nothing_ of the sort noted there. Additionally, Mlle. Rossi's _numerous_ discrepancies concerning her absences still had yet to be included. Marinette had voiced her concerns about the girl lying about her whereabouts, and, upon reviewing attendance records, her absences were  _always_ backed up by a signed excuse. Then again; it was per the _Collège Françoise Dupont_ School Code that parents be notified about the excuses provided, so she would've thought that Monsieur Damocles would've, at the very least, investigated the truth to these claims.

Then again, maybe _she_ should've as well.

Caline exhaled heavily. She had left a voicemail on her mother's answering machine earlier, to hopefully set up a meeting and to see whether the woman's answers matched her daughter's. There _was_  the possibility of her mother not even knowing the depth of Mlle. Rossi's time at school, given the woman's demanding job — which she couldn't necessarily fault, as she had seemed interested in her daughter's academics. She could only be in so many places at once. And if her mother did not know, then that meant that Mlle. Rossi was going to exceptional lengths to keep it that way — which would explain the signatures on the provided excuses: they could have very well been forged.

Her fingers wrung themselves together in anxiety. The burn of shame flamed her cheeks just then, leaving the remnants of remorse on her face. The events that last Thursday—  that Thursday when Marinette had had enough, enough to bring her to tears — played on repeat in her head, akin to a worn film tape rolling over and over in her thoughts.

How could she, as a teacher, not have even noticed any of these events? How could she, _as a teacher_ , not have been able to prevent these instances, and furthermore, prevent Marinette's departure. Throughout the school day, it essentially became her main thought, haunting her mind with a penitent chime. _How could she_ , as a teacher, have been so _careless_ towards one of her students?

Caline groaned softly, eyeing the rest of her students. She had given them the period free, so she could focus on this report — they were ahead for two days anyway, so she could afford to. Most of them were in their usual friend groups, in the midst of their various conversations. Some — like Nathaniel — were engaged in their own individual activities. _No one_  seemed to have noticed Marinette's absence yet, though she supposed that may have been due to the fact that the girl usually came late. She glanced towards the first two desks on the right — Mlle. Césaire was the midst of a conversation with Nino, Adrien and...Mlle. Rossi.

Mlle. Rossi had certainly adapted well into her class, seemingly being so amiable and coming from an interesting, voyaging background. She also, had certainly crept her way into Marinette's personal friendships within the class. Now that she was observing them, _actually_ paying attention, she and Mlle. Césaire seemed to be _quite_ close now — the Italian girl currently seemed to be speaking at length about something, with Mlle. Césaire looking at her wonder. 

She had questioned about the seating arrangements that everyone else had made — apparently it was done _without_ her consent, and the fact that Mlle. Césaire saw no problem with subjecting her friend to the back of the class, away from her friends, without her consent was beyond her. And while Marinette hadn't gone into specifics into how she currently felt about the girl, the way she spoke about Mlle. Césaire, the definite _bitterness_ in her words, made it quite clear that she was absolutely hurt over the circumstances.

 _Why_ _had she left it to the class to be sorted out?_

Furthermore, the fact that all of her classmates saw no problem with that was additionally concerning — did Mlle. Rossi _really_ have them all that fooled? Then again, for a moment, so was she. So no wonder Marinette had had enough, she couldn't imagine having to endure that constantly, never having anyone believe in her and feeling as if there was no one to go to. After submitting this report, and Mlle. Rossi was dealt with; she would have to speak to them about their actions.

Mlle. Rossi attempted to be demure in her laughter, shuffling closer to Adrien who inconspicuously leaned away, an anxious glint in his eyes — _that_ was interesting. In fact, as Caline observed them more, the only people seeming enamored with whatever Mlle. Rossi was say was Mlle. Césaire and Nino _only_.

Adrien seemed — what could only be described as _weary_. With his apathetic demeanor, he wasn't participating in the conversation as much as the other three were, and his eyes were tilted downwards. The only times he ever seemed to contribute where whenever he was prompted to by the others, _mostly_ Mlle. Rossi.

 _But for what reason?_ Caline furrowed her brows — Adrien was a polite, yet reserved person, and she suspected that it may have had to do with the fact that he only now went through public schooling. So in the beginning, she checked up on him; constantly ensuring that he wasn't having any problems adapting into her class. But the students seemed enamored with him, and he had made fast friends with the likes of Nino. She asked him questions about how he was doing with this new change, and he always related to her that he never had any problems. So she backed off little by little.

But now, as she looked at him, she wondered if she should've have kept that up. Was the girl making him uncomfortable? Was he experiencing the same circumstances that Marinette did? Had _that_ slipped past her as well? Maybe she should ask him to stay back to question —

"Mme. Bustier?" The teacher blinked, redirecting her attention to Rose, who was now hesitantly standing before her table.

The woman winced. She had caught the unsure expressions of her students when she had entered, and had most likely noted that she wasn't in the mood, _especially_ if she was giving them a free period. And she hadn't addressed them as much, save for checking their attendance and giving them the instruction to be quiet. So, she supposed that they would be concerned.

Caline cleared her throat, placing some hair behind her ear. "How can I help you, Rose?"

The girl seemed to relax, and it was only then did she notice the book in her hands. "Do you know if Marinette is sick?" Her blue eyes were filled with concern, eyes glancing downwards. "Everyone's been calling her ever since last week, and she hasn't picked up. I wanted to show her an idea I had." 

Well, _someone_ would've noticed sooner or later, even if the majority hadn't. There were multiple things one could've said about Marinette's attendance, but she eventually came to class — the fact that Marinette hadn't been at school for about a _week_ was out of character for her, and was something that most would have noted. The girl had already made her aware that she wasn't going to be taking any calls from her previous classmates, on the basis that she didn't want to have any connections with anyone from the class, save for her. Caline supposed she understood, but was saddened by how hurt the girl truly was. When asking her if she should keep her whereabouts hidden from them, as the woman wasn't liable to actually disclose that information, Marinette had said _"You can tell them if you want. If they truly have questions, and won't blame me for anything ridiculous, they can come ask me themselves. Just please don't tell them where I've transferred to."_

So she sighed, lowly answering, "Unfortunately; I'm afraid that Marinette doesn't go here anymore, Rose. She — "

To be honest; she should've presumed that whatever response Rose gave to her words would only be alarmed. Because sure enough; the girl's eyes widened, and her incredulous voice carried throughout the class, drawing everyone's attention to her table. " _What do you mean Marinette doesn't go here anymore?!_ "

Caline noted the _exact_ moment Rose's words had sunk in, and then the class erupted:

"Marinette's not going here anymore?"

_"What?!"_

"That _can't_ be true!"

"There's _no way_ she just left without so much as a single goodbye to _any_ of us."

The teacher sighed for a moment, her headache intensifying slightly. For god's sake, _why_ couldn't she do things right _for once_? She slowly reached for one of the poetry books on her desks, contemplating its weight — it was heavy enough, and certainly would be _loud_ enough — before _slamming_ it on the top of her desk. The resounding thud promptly brought everyone to silence — worried, questioning silence — and all their concerned eyes on her. 

"Yes, everyone." She eyed them, "I'm afraid that Marinette isn't a student here anymore."

The chatter started up again, everyone glancing to each other in horrified confusion. But amidst the class' surprise and dismay; Caline noted that the _only_ person whom wasn't betraying how they felt, was Mlle. Rossi — she noted the rigid way the girl was holding herself, her passive expression _way too_ blank to be considered casual, and the woman clenched the arm of her chair.

Mlle. Césaire stood up, her eyes shimmering with hurt. "Are you _sure_ , Mme. Bustier? Marinette wouldn't just leave without saying _something_!"

"I helped her with finalizing her paperwork, Mlle. Césaire. So yes, I'm sure."

Mlle. Césaire flinched back at that, expression unbelieving for a moment, before slipping into resolution. Caline eyed the way she now stood straight — she knew that the girl was not the type to let something go when it wasn't to her liking. She was too headstrong sometimes. Her not having any sort of answers due to Marinette's abrupt leaving meant that she was going to _get them herself_.

She would have to call Marinette after this.

The rest of her students exchanged distressed or confused glances in silence for a moment — even Chloe, who she knew had never gotten along with the girl was shocked. And then, another student raised their hand in question — Caline had to conceal her immediate fury at seeing Mlle. Rossi's eagerness, and simply nodded to acknowledge her. "Do you know why she left, Mme. Bustier? It just seems so _weird_ that she left so suddenly." Her eyes were too wide, trying to emulate an incredibly concerned student. 

She eyed the faces of her students at that. She couldn't let on the true reason why the girl left, not yet. That would cause more issues, and if Mlle. Rossi was as committed to lying as she was, that would cause more lies. Caline didn't exactly have evidence as yet, and couldn't have the girl alerted that she was on to her.

So she cleared her throat, "I'm afraid that you'll have to ask her yourselves. I'm not even sure either."

She could see it now in Mlle. Rossi, the assessment: Anxious. Upset. Tired. Unknowing.  _Nothing to worry about._

Caline kept her expression deceptively blank. _Good_. Because as of now, if she wanted this to go as she wanted, that's how Mlle. Rossi needed to see her. She mimed checking her phone — Marinette needed to be alerted sooner rather than later.

"If you all can go back to your previous activities — I'll be stepping outside for just a moment."

The woman fixes her gaze forward, pointedly not taking a glimpse at whatever expressions they had at her answer, and began to leave the room. The moment the door to her classroom is shut, she takes a deep breath, her thumb pressing down.

 

* * *

 

 _La Bibliothèque Étudiante Pierre Thomas · École Louise Vallayer-Coster pour Les Arts, Paris, France._  
_9:45 am._

"Hello?" 

"Marinette, this is Mme. Bustier." 

 _What was the reason,_ Marinette thought, freezing in her chair, _that she was calling her?_ She hadn't been lying when she told her that she wanted to stay in contact, because the woman had helped her in the end, but she wasn't expecting anything this soon.

 _One way to find out,_ She caught the eyes of her table-mates. Right. She couldn't stay on the phone here.

After excusing herself, she walked towards the entrance where there wasn't anyone save one of the librarians and stood. "Sorry about that, what is it?"

The woman's voice was weary, _tired_. "Oh, were you in class? Did I pull you out?"

She eyed the working librarian, eyes focused on their book. "No, I have the first two periods free right now."

Silence on the line between them. Just like the silence between them in the classroom last Thursday, when she was vulnerable and exposed and drained, and when she gave the woman time to digest her splurge of thoughts and to think. 

"Mme. Bustier." She would be patient. "What is it?"

A drawn-out, jaded breath. "Someone finally questioned your absence — Rose actually. They...I told them that you've transferred."

Oh. _Oh_. She — she supposed that it was time for them to know anyway. It was Friday, she had been absent for a little over a week now. "Right. Right. Uh — how were...how did they take it?" They must have been surprised, because they clearly were just expecting her to get over herself and calm down. They were expecting her to play nice with Lila. They _weren't_ expecting her to leave. 

A slow breath. “Confused mostly. Shocked. From their perspective, they didn't think you would just leave."

_Of course they wouldn't._

"But the real reason why I'm calling — Marinette, you know they'll have questions."

She knew. It was something the woman had brought up during their school-scouting, which was why she questioned whether or not to disclose _everything_. She knows that they'll be blowing up her old phone, that has yet to be thrown out, stored in that drawer. She exhaled heavily, leaning against the wall. "I know. I'm expecting it." 

A slow breath. Pointedly, " _Mlle. Césaire_ will have some questions."

Marinette shuddered out a breath. Right. _Right_. Alya wasn't one to sit quietly in the face of uncertainty. In the destruction from akumas and their victims, in the attempts of herself and Chat Noir, she always placed herself in the midst of it, usually running. She wasn't going to just let this fly by. "How — how was...?"

"I could see it in her eyes." Mme. Bustier's voice was assured. "She's going to come see you eventually."

Eventually meant _as soon as possible_ ,  _today_ even, and she clenched her fist. " _Right_." God — she really just  _couldn't_ deal with Alya right now. She knows that she'll be loud in her hurt and confusion, assuming with her cutting words, _demanding_ answers and there's just not enough energy within her to deal with that yet. She doesn't know if there ever will be.

 _Deep breath_. She couldn't afford do deal with this now, not _here_.

"Marinette?" Concern from the other end. Tikki moved against the back of her neck, concealed by her hoodie. Marinette realized she was holding her breath and made herself exhale.

"And Lila? How did she react?"

A short, sardonic laugh escaped her. It took a moment before she answered, "Satisfied with herself. I could tell that she was, despite her best efforts to pretend otherwise." 

 _Of course she was._ She had to be, what with Marinette absent from throwing a wrench in her lies. If Adrien wasn't going to do anything — which she doubted that he was, he was very firm in taking the high road; Lila was now free to have things the way she wanted, to control her classmates any how she wanted. 

The slight anger in the woman's voice calmed her somewhat. She had told her that she'd make _sure_ that Lila was taken care of, and she knew that the teacher would. "Thank you for telling me." She wouldn't have known what to do if she had walked home and unexpectedly encountered an upset Alya.

"Of course, Marinette." The weariness crept back into her voice, and she spoke before the slightly awkward air grew even more so. "I suppose I'll have to get back to my report. I hope that the rest of the day is good for you."

"Thank you...and the same to you."

Marinette listened to the silence after Mme. Bustier hung up, before eventually pocketing her phone.

She needed to call her mother. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine my surprise when, upon searching the [Miraculous Ladybug Wikia](https://miraculousladybug.fandom.com/wiki/F%C3%A9lix_\(episode\)), I find out that Félix is apparently supposed to appear in his own named episode — as Adrien's cousin. Especially since it was said that he was going to never appear in this version. Interesting.
> 
> Now, I really contemplated how to portray him in this, because the initial concept of Félix wasn't exactly a great character. He was supposed to be much darker, given the seemingly much more adult show that Miraculous PV was initially going to be. However, one of the reasons why Thomas Astruc changed him to Adrien was due to the fact that he came off as anime cliché — in which, he was always irked by Marinette's infatuation with him and goes through extreme lengths to avoid her or even cause her harm. Ergo, Thomas didn't think that he'd be a good character for the portrayal of romance for anyone. Which, I completely understand, because I personally would not have been drawn to him.
> 
> Something tells me that they'll be completely revising his character (hopefully anyway), therefore; I decided to base my take on his character using a mixture of [this](https://66.media.tumblr.com/12de65e67ae89356e4815dffe9579709/tumblr_p3pr10t9dU1w564lao1_1280.png) (which is actually one of the first drafts of Adrien) and [this ](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/lady-bug/images/d/d0/Felix_Agreste_concept_art.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20180116221313) concept art.
> 
> That first draft of Adrien doesn't carry the same aura as FinalDesign! Adrien does. At first, I wasn't going to use it since it is clearly Adrien but there's a difference in clothes — much more sophisticated and not providing expressive colours that would draw a usual teenager, and this Adrien seems...exponentially different.  
> I do think that he carries the same kindness that FinalDesign! Adrien does (if lessened), however, it may have only been to people he thought were deserving of it. I would think that he'd be the type to present himself as an open book to everyone and yet, never actually disclose anything personal about himself. He would have been calculating, learning from the type of person his Father is and taking note. He wouldn't be someone to let things slide when it comes people being horrible (unlike Adrien, who is affected by Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting, which shaped his outlook on things) — going along with Chat Noir's initial powers, if someone is being a dick, he'll deliver bad luck to them in the form of something that could be explained as a normal occurrence of Karma.  
> Also keeping with the initial Chat Noir, his moral code would not have been as FinalDesign! Adrien. If a matter doesn't concern him, or anyone he cares about, he won't intervene. And we all have a pretty good idea of Félix's character would have been — reserved, not openly friendly, etc. Only becoming wild, outgoing, and expressive when transforming as Chat Noir.
> 
> So therefore, this version of Félix is keeping both of those in mind, will be designed to be slight Antithesis of Adrien.  
> Parts of Allan's initial concept and design seem to have been incorporated into Nino's civilian and superhero alter-ego. I'm characterizing him as someone who's much more relaxed and chill — he can handle Claude's excitedness, sometimes even matching it, but knows how to take a breather. He's much more quieter, but when anxious or any other major emotion, he's incredibly expressive. He also loves music, in accordance to his concept art, but focuses on how to visually express it in the form of Dance.
> 
> Lastly, , Mme. Bustier is going to be someone much more through and hands-on concerning the welfare of her students in this story. Her approach and attitude towards issues concerning her students has always bugged me — because what good teacher, after seeing a student's bullying or negativity towards another, tries to tell the victim to put up with it in order to set a good example? That's not a student's job, that's the teacher's.
> 
> Additionally, I question why — when there's an already established seating chart that would have been tailored to all of the student's issues (eyesight problems, etc.) — allow all her students to rearranged themselves and everyone drastically when there's only one student who needs accommodation? And making a student sit by themselves? When they could just sit in a row with two other people? And then making them feeling bad about being alone when they had no choice in the new seating arrangement? Nope, I'm changing her character.
> 
> Thank you for reading this lengthy nonsense and I'll see you with the next chapter.


	5. cinq

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing would have prepared Sabine for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, by the way — the new employee working at Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie (since Marinette is constantly in school) is someone who's appeared in concept art before: he's the guy waiting the table that the Quantic kids are sitting at [here](https://66.media.tumblr.com/39876c8148ac246921815f22cd4d2ad7/tumblr_orww6rGo7b1w6s0uyo1_1280.jpg).
> 
> Also, if you ever see any updates without any new chapter, that's just me editing anything in the past chapters.

_Wednesday, April 24 th — _ _Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie, Paris, France._  
_4:34 pm._

Nothing during the slow, serene day would have prepared Sabine for this. 

 _This_ being their daughter, who hadn't too long come from school upset. Upset, and _crying_.

They were all currently gathered in the living room. It had been a rush — the last customer had _just_ been out the door, their new employee Martin hadn't even left for home, and the unsold bread and pastries still needed to be put away, but they would do it one at a time. She quickly sent the concerned young boy home, _she would put away the bread and everything_. She locked the bakery door, turning the sign from _open_ to _closed_ , and had crested the stairs to the living room to sort this out.

Her daughter looked small, curled up on the couch in the midst of the room. Her husband, who was currently trying to calm her down, had taken to acting as a sort of cocoon. But his massive size dwarfed her, making her appear even _tinier_ — and _gods_ , Sabine was right by their side in a second, her heart swelling with that bone-deep protectiveness, howling at her to _protect her protect her protect her_.

The last time Marinette had truly cried, of _this_ magnitude, Sabine thought distantly, it was borne from pure frustration from messing up a project of hers. So — what happened today that caused _this_? 

"I just — I just c-can't do it  _anymore_ —" There was something akin to a sob, painful despite her daughter's lack of breath. " — no one  _believes_  me. I — I was almost  _akumatized_ —" Her face crumpled as she broke off, turning her head to curl up into her husband's torso.

Her mind _blared,_ and something in her turned to ice. 

Tom straightened, and his expression was filled with genuine  _horror_. " _Akumatized_? Marinette,  _what_ —"

" _Tom_ ," she firmly said, and he promptly cut himself off, but his golden eyes were _pained_. And she understood. The very idea of their daughter being exploited, _manipulated_ by a consistent terrorist was stomach-churning. The fact that Marinette had narrowly escaped that — that _monster's_ hold made her _undeniably sick_. 

So yes, she definitely understood. But it wouldn't do  _any_  of them good if they overwhelmed her when she was already in clear distress, and have Marinette work herself up to akumatization again. She  _couldn't_  have her daughter in Hawkmoth's unforgiving clutches.  _She wouldn't allow it_.

Therefore, despite her tumultuous thoughts, she pitched her voice low. Low and calming. Because gods, she _needed_ her calm. "Mari, xiǎo tián tián — " _Sweetheart_. " — I need you to calm down a bit, okay?"

Marinette acknowledged her, yet she choked on her breath in an attempt to calm down — like she was drowning, like she was _dying_ , and Sabine's heart twisted painfully. She shut her eyes tight, because she needed a moment, a moment to calm herself —  she couldn't falter, not _now_. She took a minuscule look at Tom from her periphery, who had been staring in horrified silence. She  _needed_ to be the calm one for everyone. "I understand that you're upset, but you need to _calm down_ a bit. Okay, sweetie? You can do it."

It had definitely taken some time: Afternoon had turned into evening. Dusk made its way onto the Parisian horizon, the orange light pouring through the window. Marinette's sobs turned into sniffles, and from sniffles into little sporadic hiccups. And she waited. And waited. And waited. She would stay by her daughter's side all night if she had to, and she knew Tom would do the same.

Eventually, Marinette had calmed down a significant amount and was able to speak. Softly and still crying, but clearly. And she explained about some classmate named Lila Rossi, and how much of a liar the girl was. About how she had cornered her in the bathroom, had _threatened_ to isolate her from her friends, which had made the akuma come after her. About the sudden turn of her classmates. And as her daughter went on, she _stared_. Stared, and stared and stared in fury that only a mother would have. Because she couldn't comprehend that her daughter was being bullied. Couldn't make a visible link to it. How _dare_ this little girl — 

Tom eyed her for a moment, before motioning his chin towards the kitchen. "How about you make her some tea, honey?"

She knew what he was doing. And he shamelessly stared her in the face, not saying anymore. But she eventually stood up, ignoring the pulse of anger that repeated _they needed to fix this they needed to fix this right now_. "Of course," she softly said. "I'll be right back, bǎo bèi." _I'll be right back, baby._

She eyed her husband, who bobbed his head in silent assent — _i'm not going anywhere, just get some warm tea to help calm her down some more_ , and she made her way to their kitchen. 

Tea. She could do tea.

 

* * *

 

Marinette shakily accepted the cup of tea from her, a small hiccup escaping her lips. "Thanks, Maman."

They sat in silence once more, with Marinette still in Tom's arms, and Sabine comfortingly patting her head. And she waited until the girl had downed her cup, until she was full of warm tea before she attempted to broach the topic again. "Are you ready to continue,  _宝宝 (baby)_?" Because if she wasn't, she wait until tomorrow, keep her home until they got this sorted out.

But Marinette nodded, and she took the cup away from her, placing it on their coffee table.

"It's just — my whole class —" Marinette's words were dead and dull. "It's almost as if I _haven't_ gone through  _école élémentaire_ with them."

Sabine still can't wrap her head around it —  _The whole class_? Those nice children who she's let into their home ever since her daughter was around _eight_? _All of them?_ Even sweet Alya?

She and Tom were always on the same wavelength. He raised an eyebrow, "Everyone? Even  _Alya_?"

"Alya practically threw me at the back of the  _fucking class_!" She bristled, raising her head and fixing them with a sharp stare, a furious fire burning in those eyes of hers. Sabine didn't bother reprimanding her for her language, and neither did her husband — she was somewhat past the stage of sadness, and was now into anger. Marinette needed to let this out.

Sure enough, just a second later, she let out a gusty exhale, anger and anguish shimmering in her blue eyes, and she shook her head. "I — I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be yelling.”

"It's fine, sweetheart."

Marinette continued as if Tom hadn't spoken, “It's just — I wouldn't have  _minded_  trading seats with her so she could sit with Nino. They're still in the early stages of figuring out their feelings and they want to spend every moment they can with each other. I  _get_  that." She chuckled, the noise bitter and mirthless. "But she didn't even  _ask_  me. She wanted to be close to Nino but didn't even think of the fact that I may have wanted to be close to my  _friends_. No one thought about that."

There must have been _some_ sort of misunderstanding — Alya didn't seem like the type of girl to just _not ask_. "Did she _know_ that she didn't have your consent?" Which, Sabine will admit, _sounds_ like a nonsensical question, but she's trying to make sense of it all.

She sighs, " _Maybe_ Lila got into contact with everyone separately and made up some sort of lie to separate me and not make Alya question it — because they apparently all knew about Lila coming back to school before I did. But...she had _no_ idea at that point that I knew that she was lying. She didn't know who I even was. So I ruled that out. Alya probably thought I wouldn't mind, but she _didn't_ ask me." Marinette burrowed more into Tom, "And when I — when I said that it was unfair, everyone just brushed me off. Everyone got to sit with _their_ friends and partners and...didn't think _twice_ about me."

 _I should have been paying attention,_ Sabine berated herself, because she had noticed that Marinette was a little off for the past few days. But at the time, Marinette hadn't given any indication that it was this bad.  _I should’ve noticed she was upset, I should’ve questioned her about it earlier_ — _but I didn’t, and now…_

"A— and they — _Alya_ — acted as if I was only like this because of my crush on Adrien." She continued, "Which, okay I get. I haven't been the _best_ person when it comes to that aspect." An expression crossed her face that spoke of such deep shame, "I've done a lot of things that I'm...not proud of. I _have_  had my crush on him dictate how I act to some people. And _yeah_ , following Adrien and Lila was because I was initially jealous. I'm guilty of that, and I was completely wrong. But I've _immediately_ tried to fix anything I did wrong."

Her voice was cold, "I helped Adrien work things out with Kagami because _it didn't matter_ that he liked someone else, he needed advice from a friend — and they _knew_ that. Alya, and everyone else knew that. We had a whole girls meeting about it where I said that I wasn't going to do anything. And I've _never_ been so horrible to _Chloe_ , even with how she fawns over Adrien. So, to just place my feelings solely on fucking _jealously_ — "

Sabine rubbed her head, as a reminder to not get worked up any more. The girl placed an understanding hand over hers. "Just because I haven't been the best person doesn't mean that I'm so horrible as they think I am. I get why they think that, but it still hurts. And yeah, not believing someone when they say that they have a disability is pretty horrible, but  _I'm not that mean_. I didn't even  _question_  that aspect. I was just upset that I wasn't consulted first. That's not all that it is, but...Alya refused to hear me out."

Tom blinked, "What do you mean?"

"She told me that _"A good reporter always verifies her sources"_. But, she  _never_ even fact-checked anything that Lila said.  _Ladyblog_ Reporter, Journalist Extraordinaire, _Alya Césaire_ didn't investigate her claims." Marinette sputtered, " _That's what Alya does_. I _just don't get it_. The girl who was _so_ set on figuring out Ladybug's civilian identity that she investigated the fact that Ladybug had a history book that was for students in our year, didn't investigate what Lila said. That's just _so_ unlike her."

Sabine had to agree, that _was_ so unlike the girl. What _had_ made Alya do a complete turnaround in her own _nature_?

"She didn't even _once_ question how valid her claims where —" And she pitched her voice into something high, and clearly meant to be annoying. "— _'oh, I know Jagged Stone, I saved his cat and got a hearing disability as a result.'_    _I'm_ on friendly terms with Jagged, she didn't even ask me if what Lila said was true." And she exhaled, just oh so _tired_. "She kept trying to force me and Lila to become friends, even though she _knew_ I didn't like her. She said that I was being ridiculous."

"And Adrien?" Because she didn't want to believe that the young boy wouldn't be behind her.  

She falters, eyes downcast. "He doesn't think that calling her out will help, since she might get akumatized and cause havoc. And — I _guess_ he's right. Everyone at school believes her lies, I'm even sure she's getting around the teachers _somehow_. She'll just find some way to lie herself out of it. She's done it before, and she'll do it again."

She supposes that Adrien's right — that _isn't_ horrible advice to give, but the fact that the girl cornered her in the bathroom.... "Does he know that she threatened you?" Because if he did, and _still_ didn't want to do anything — 

"No, he doesn't know." 

Her mind mulled that over — he truly didn't know the depth of the girl's terror, might have thought that the only thing that Lila Rossi was doing was just spinning lies. She could tell that his upbringing wasn't quite the  _best_ , and he may have been socialized to passively go through life. He may not know just how his words are hurting her daughter, but logically, she couldn't exactly fault him.

But the protectiveness in her flared — he shouldn't _have_ to know to still stand by her. He _knows_ that the girl's lying, is spinning webs around his fellow classmates, and yet doesn't want to disrupt the normalcy of things. If she's been treated like this by the rest of her classmates, was he _really_ keeping his word about it not mattering, since he said that he was in her corner? Was he doing his best to speak _for_ her against her classmates? 

 _Gods_  is she conflicted.

"....I'm sorry, sweetie." Three words from Tom, soft and small and achingly sad.

She aimed a smile at him. A strained, aching sort of smile — but a smile all the same. "I just — I just _don't_ know what to do, Papa. Maman." Marinette's eyes filled with tears once more, her hands curled tight into frustrated fists. "It's like she has them all under a spell. They don't even _question_ anything she says, even thought every word out of her mouth is _completely_ outlandish."

Tom glanced over to her, a clear question in his eyes, and she instantly opened her arms in wait. He passed Marinette onto her, and at first, she flinched upon leaving her father's arms. But then Sabine wrapped her arms around, and her shoulders relaxed, her head resting on her chest, and her legs still on her father's. She fiercely hugged her daughter, and Sabine thought for a moment.

"Marinette," Sabine murmured, closing her eyes, holding back the fury simmering in her veins. "I know — _I know_ that it feels as if _nothing's_ going right — as if it's never going to let up." She curls more into her at that, and she continues. "This Lila Rossi is like...an Icarus." 

Slowly, oh-so slowly, she raised her head slightly. "The Greek Mythology story?" There was a confused tilt to her thin voice. 

She hummed, using a hand to curl the end of one of her pigtails. "She ignores any warnings that she shouldn't be lying. She thinks that she's _untouchable_ , and your classmates are blinded by her, too manipulated to question anything she says. They're strengthening her." Sabine doesn't think that she's imaging the hard tone her voice now took. "But sooner or later, she _will_ fly too close to the sun. And then she fall, down _down down_ and crash so painfully. And she'll be drowning with the weight of her lies, and the disproving eyes of everyone. She'll be _burning_."

The Chinese woman drew her back for a moment, staring into her tearful, red-rimmed eyes. "Qiān jīn...." _My Darling Daughter._ "Your classmates will realize the truth, and that they treated you horribly. _Alya_ will realize that she treated you horribly. And I know how you've been feeling as if you shouldn't be upset, how your classmates have been making you feel as if you shouldn't be upset. But you have _every_ right to be."

Her daughter stared at her for a moment longer before the tears fell yet again, and she choked on something — most likely a sob, and a wheeze of relief escaped her. And the entire situation rang in her head for a moment, because _how long had Marinette kept her frustration to herself? How long had Marinette been told that she was overreacting, or that she was being ridiculous? How long had_  —

— and then Sabine gasped as there was a sudden blur of motion, Marinette slamming into her and pulling her into another attempt of receiving comfort, her head resting on her chest. She welcomed it, placing her head on the girl's chin and wrapping her arms gently around her. What mattered was that they were helping her now, and _they were going to fix this, they were absolutely going to fix this_.

Tom gently began to pat her head, voice into a careful whisper, "What do you want to do, sweetie?" And despite the distraught glint in his golden eyes, his voice was still strong as he spoke, "Would you like us to speak to one of your teachers? Or your principal?" But it was a given that they were already going to do so, they weren't going to leave it just like _that_. "Whatever you decide, we're _always_ behind you."

There was a pause, before Marinette whispered, "I think that I should transfer."

Sabine paused. Stared.

_Oh._

The words hung in the air between them all, and Marinette's fragile shoulders hitched slightly at the silence, instantly prompting her to speak . "Okay," Sabine eyed her husband, who was currently frowning. "But, you don't necessarily _have_ to leave, bǎo bǎo _."  But, you don't necessarily _have_ to leave, baby. _"We can speak with Principal Damocles and —"

" _I don't want to be around anyone right now_." She interrupted, and she froze. "Things may be solved, and everyone — they'll _try_ to make it go back to normal, but...I just _can't_ forget this. I'll just be wondering when's the next time they'll just completely deviate. And...I'm not going to let anyone know. _I want them all to wonder just how I reacted with it all_." Her voice was filled with venom, with cold resolve.

Because this wasn't just some misunderstanding — to her at least. This wasn't some passionate rant that Marinette tended to get into sometimes. This was serious —  _she_  was serious.

And if that would make things better, she would absolutely — unreservedly, do it.

So she nodded, "Okay."

"I did say that we're always behind you no matter what you decide — didn't I?" Tom made a soft, sympathetic noise. He spoke softly, patting her head. "We'll take you out of  _Dupont_ , but we'll still have to meet with your teachers — or _one_ of them at least — to discuss this. As well as your principal."

Marinette nodded, wiping some of her tears. "I know. I'll go to school tomorrow and talk with Mme. Bustier."

But what she thought of going to school tomorrow clearly showed up on her face, and Sabine exchanged a look with her husband. "You don't have to, sweetie. We can just take a day off to talk with her."

Their daughter shook her head, "I'll be fine, Papa. I'l just.... I'll just keep to myself until the afternoon." But Sabine could read what she didn't say, the whisper of _like i've been doing_ , and she exhaled, steadying herself. Now wasn't the time.

The silence that followed was somewhat comfortable, now that everything was out in the open. And after — well she didn’t know  _how_ long it had been, minutes, hours, _days_ —  above their daughter's head; Tom raised an eyebrow, _we're gonna have to talk about this later._

She frowned, _i know._  

But for now — she watched as Marinette separated from her slightly, to place a hand on Tom's arm and to look at them both. Sky-blue eyes peeked out from under long bangs for a moment, looking dejected, but warm all the same. "Thank you for understanding."

Sabine nodded, giving her a smile. "Of course, sweetie." Tom gathered them all in a hug, his arms big enough to hold them both, and she closed her eyes for another moment more. They'll figure this whole mess out. "We love you, Marinette."

Softly, "I love you, too."

— for now, they would just hold her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Researching on the Miraculous PV!Verse and seeing the numerous concepts, and even the  
> [Miraculous PV! video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FlwV3scCgAM), that eventually weren't chosen for the show's final design and ideas is _wild_ , let me just say:
> 
> Marinette having more prominent Asian features? Wonderful.  
> The Dupain-Cheng household having more prominent elements of their blended family life — i.e. visibly showcasing much more that Marinette is half-Chinese, with a Chinese mother through the designs of the various rooms in the house? Amazing. (As seen in the concept arts [here](http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PWLLm65_FeA/Vkx71CecyeI/AAAAAAAAAqk/KeIq16_Z3II/s1600/ladybug%2Bcuisine.jpg) , [here](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/lady-bug/images/a/ac/Chambre_Ladybug_06-03-13.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20190307231357), [here](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/lady-bug/images/f/f5/Marinette%27s_Room_Inside_Concept_Art.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20190307232405) , and [here](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/39000000/Miraculous-Ladybug-Marinette-s-Home-Concept-Art-miraculous-ladybug-39006954-1500-718.jpg). It may not be absolutely accurate to a Chinese household, [this](https://meatballsu.tumblr.com/post/186695318619/this-has-been-in-my-mind-for-a-long-timesorry) textpost notes that, but the concept of it is beautiful.)
> 
> Marinette fighting akumatized villains using nothing but her _bare hands and feet_? The _power_. Off the top of my head, I can't recall a magical girl character just fucking whip out a total fistfight like [this](https://66.media.tumblr.com/065e5c16f386494f9a899cdfbe005e34/tumblr_inline_oqfqfox2FT1rfman3_540.gif).  
> The captivating images of Paris at night, with Ladybug and Chat Noir jumping from rooftop to rooftop? Beautiful (Seen [here](https://66.media.tumblr.com/faeb11fd771c309019e62d92a52df529/tumblr_ov3lz07Czx1w564lao1_1280.png), [here](https://66.media.tumblr.com/dedc4475cefb14a652a1bd2df8f6256e/tumblr_okrtjkdy1G1w564lao1_1280.png), and somewhat [here](https://66.media.tumblr.com/bb486ae060f1be1625cb42d6de63f7b5/tumblr_os8a0oiSt21w564lao1_1280.png))
> 
> The show was apparently going to be much more suspenseful and sinister (with political themes, holy shit) but because it didn't get much traction with the demographic they were initially aiming for (teens, adults), they decide to their demographic to a much younger audience.
> 
> And I'm shook because, can you _imagine_? As much as I am fine with the final version of the show, I love to see concept art and ideas just to explore what could have been. There was a lot of potential, and if something akin to the initial ideas will be made in the future, I would be all for it.


	6. six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She could pin-point _just exactly_ what had led to this disconnect: Lila Rossi.

     _Something_ didn't feel right between her and Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Their friendship is approximately a little more than a year old now, and she already knows her like the palm of her own hand, and she'd like to think that it was vice versa for Marinette — so there  _shouldn't_ be any problems, right?There shouldn't be any big issues in their so called friendship, because they’re  _best friends_  after all.

She knows what the girl likes: her favourite colour being pink; how she _hates_ the cold weather — practically going through hibernation through the chill; exactly how she took her coffee — with _loads_ of sugar and almond milk; among other things. She and Marinette usually told each other _everything_ , whether over the phone on a scheduled night, or during one of their sleepovers. Sure, there was the occasional back and forth, but that was common between friends.

    So logically,  _technically_ , there  _shouldn't be any issues_.

But recently, Alya was beginning to notice a disconnect — she and Marinette were on an island that slowly, gradually started to split in the middle. The islands were drifting away from each other, rising with the tide of the water, and then there was an incredible distance between them. And there was an obvious conclusion:

She was losing her best friend.

    Alya really, truly, genuinely _hated_ to think of that possibility — but she couldn't ignore it, not when it was clear as _all fucking day_. Because she couldn't remember the last time she and Marinette had truly hung out. _Every single time_ , Marinette had something to do,  _somewhere else to be_. And that made this entire situation  _worse_ — so much worse, because that meant that Marinette was actively trying her best to get  _away_  from her. At least, that's what it  _seemed_  like. And she'd like to think that even if her instincts aren't as sharp as they always are, she'd still be able to tell when she's being avoided by someone.

_She was losing her best friend._

And the thing was, she could pin-point _just exactly_ what had led to this disconnect. The crux of this issue that was making Marinette Dupain-Cheng act incredibly _different_ — because she truly was becoming something unrecognizable, something that wasn't the best friend she knew:

_Lila Rossi._

 

* * *

 

     "I'm _telling_ you, Alya! She's definitely lying — why would _anyone_ go around saying that they're best friends with Ladybug?"

Alya exhaled, eyes skimming through the Ladyblog Forum Discussions. Marinette had been on the discussion of Lila _a lot_ , ever since the girl had entered, and she wasn't showing any sign of letting up. She liked Lila — she was certainly accomplished for someone around her age, and in Alya's opinion, was absolutely _cool_ : She led a life of constant travel, since her parents are diplomats. She knew Prince Ali, and is a frequent visitor to his place and usually goes with him to summits. She knows numerous Hollywood directors, like Steven Besielberg. She knew _Jagged Stone_.

She was also nice, and friendly, just wanting to fit in with the class. And that she could understand — Alya had been the new girl once, and she was lucky to get along with someone as well as she did on her first day. And everyone in the class thought the world of her, because she was a sweetheart.

    Everyone, except _Marinette_.

"Why _wouldn't_ anyone say that they're best friends with Ladybug?"

Marinette frowned, "You're telling me that you would tell everyone you meet that you knew Ladybug personally?"

She ignored the fact that she _did_ know Ladybug — not personally, strictly business-wise or superheroing wise — and said, "I mean — if I knew Ladybug, that'd be pretty fucking awesome. I'd tell _someone_."

"Okay — fine. _Someone_. Not _everyone I came in contact with_." The blue-nette wildly waved her arms. "Hawkmoth's keeping everyone in Paris in _fear_ — he'll be looking for _any_ possible weakness for Ladybug and Chat Noir."

Her mind briefly went to her uploaded video about Lila speaking on her and Ladybug's friendship, but she shook it away. Hawkmoth wouldn't be focusing on her little blog. "Yeah but she only told us, Marinette. People who she trusts, and we wouldn't tell anyone. Besides, even though she's not hiding her relationship with Ladybug, that doesn't mean that she's _lying_."

But Marinette only grumbles, deflating on the cafeteria bench. "She's a _liar_ , Alya."

Alya watches her for a moment, watches her eyes narrow at her lunch tray as if it _murdered_ her entire family line, and sets her phone aside. Because she's been meaning to talk about this for a while now, because Marinette had been taking _every single moment_ for pick on the new girl, and Lila definitely didn't deserve that.

"Marinette," she slowly started. "Are you jealous because Lila and Adrien seem to be getting along?" Because that would explain _so much_ , and the girl truly had kicked up a fuss when she spotted the two talking at the top of the stairs.

She sat up straight, eyes wide, "What?"

"Look, I _know_ how you get about Adrien," because she did know, her friend was an absolute _mess_ whenever it came to the Sunshine Boy™. But despite how much she loved her, it was getting irritating at this point. "And I know you got a one track mind whenever it comes to him, but that doesn't mean that you should be treating Lila like that."

Mouth open, mouth closed. Marinette was still staring at her in shock, blue eyes searching her. ".....you think that I'm saying that Lila's a liar because of my crush on _Adrien_?"

Alya simply raised an eyebrow, "Are you gonna tell me that you haven't done the most because of it?"

Marinette stares at her for a moment more, before her dark brows narrow. "That's not _why_ — "

"It's not like you to dislike people for no reason, is it? And based off of the first time you saw her, it's a reasonable assumption that I can make." She was wary of the people in the cafeteria, and kept her voice low. "You're not exactly being _welcoming_ , Mari. And it's not fair to Lila, yelling at the fact that she's lying constantly — I've _seen_ the looks you give her. Everyone in all of _Paris_ has a crush on him, are you gonna side-eye every person that likes him?"

She's staring at her food, completely _silent_ and Alya felt guilt prick at her. Because it wasn't Marinette's fault that she couldn't help her feelings. She was _definitely_ in the wrong for treating Lila as she was, but she was only _human_. But she  _clearly_ realized that she was wrong, and maybe she could change her approach to the girl.

"Hey," she gently placed her hand on one of hers. "It's okay, chérie. Once you spend more time with Lila, I'm sure that she'll overlook how you were acting before. She's nice like that."

But Marinette drew her hand back, and something about the little movement made her stomach sink, and she watched as the girl went back to eating her food, saying nothing except a muttered " _I bet she will._ "

Alya frowned. She suddenly couldn't discern Marinette's emotions — her expression was blank, and her eyes were down in her food. But she had a feeling that the girl wasn't quite so content with what she just said. Alya huffed, exasperated. Marinette clearly realized that she was being _ridiculous_ , but was still holding on to her jealously. 

    No matter, she'd help the girl overcome her dislike of Lila. Once Marinette was around her more often, she'd realize that she was being unfair, and get over her nonsensical jealous streak.

She was sure of it.

 

* * *

 

    Okay, so this was going to be an issue.

Alya had done her part and made sure that Lila was present every time — at lunch, whether at the cafeteria or out to eat at a café; during the free periods they miraculously received throughout the day — because Lila deserved to feel at welcome, deserved to be included in a group of nice people that liked her well enough.

But she could only do _so_ much, because _Marinette just wasn't cooperating._

She invited Lila to eat with them at lunch, and the girl was talking about her outing with an American singer: "It was so lovely! I even got the chance to see her twins Rumi and Sir — they're so _adorable_!" Yet, despite the _amazing_ recount of the Italian girl's dinner with the starlet, and despite everyone being in awe because it really was _just so cool_ that she got that chance, Marinette hadn't budged _one bit_.

She just sat, not saying much of anything.

And it wasn't just her who noticed it. Alix had shared a few pointed glances with her, and Juleka and Rose worriedly looked over at Marinette's _frigidness_ , and god — it was getting exasperating at this point. She still hadn't stopped questioning the supposed truth of her experiences. She wasn't giving the girl a _single_ chance because of her petty jealously, and it was wholeheartedly affecting the group dynamic.

If Marinette wasn't going to cooperate, then she would just have to _force_ it. 

So, she cleared her throat. "Hey, Lila. Do you wanna be a part of our special Girls' Night Sleepover?"

The girl had looked surprised, _delighted_. Marinette had looked surprised, _annoyed_.

"I — really?" Lila waved her hands. "I wouldn't want to get in-between your girls' time. Like you said, it's special." Her eyes drifted over to Marinette's and Alya groaned — _of course she'd realize_. Because if everyone here could sense it, then obviously Lila could sense Marinette's disdain. 

"Of course, Lila! You're totally welcome, you wouldn't be intruding on anything." Rose and Juleka chimed in with their own reassurances, _yeah, of course you're welcome_ and  _you're our friend Lila_ , they wanted this friendship to work.

"Yeah!" Alix was also clearly on board. "You're cool, and we _all_ totally want you to be a part of it." She pointedly eyed Marinette, eyes narrowed. " _Right_ , Marinette?"

Said blue-nette spared the small girl a glare, and additionally made eye contact with her. Alya stared her dead on, _it's for your own good Marinette, you're being ridiculous and need to get over it_. Marinette sighed, before begrudgingly sending Lila _the most fake smile she'd ever since the girl attempt._

"Of course, Lila."

Lila had bought it, not noticing her struggling to say what she did, simply just happy at the invitation. _What a sweetheart._  "Thank you, guys! I haven’t had a sleepover in _ages_ since I’ve been traveling so much!"

Alya smiled, but eyed the way Marinette had leaned back out of the conversation again. Upset, and angry.

 

* * *

 

    Marinette stopped hanging out with them.

Well, _stopped_ wasn't the right word. More accurately, she _always_ was caught up in something. Never able to go with all of them whenever they broached it. And Alya doesn't think that it's a coincidence that it started happening after the sleepover invitation.

"Hey, Mari. Wanna come with us for lunch? Lila wants to try this new restaurant that opened up." _Sorry, Alya. But I gotta help my parents with a scheduled delivery._

"Wanna come see the new movie at le cinéma? It'll just be you, me and the girls." _The girls?_ "Juleka, Rose, Mylène and Lila." _I'll see._ A few days after, _Sorry, I can't. I need to help Maman and Papa with this important order for a party._

"Girl, _Jagged Stone's_ having a concert. Maybe we can snag some tickets and go?" Once she said that Lila would be present?  _I have to check with Maman and Papa first._ After? _I don't have enough money to go._

 _Every single time_ , Marinette had something to do. And she _knew_ that it wasn't a coincidence.

Why was she being so ridiculous?

 

* * *

 

     Marinette couldn't make it to the sleepover.

Her excuse? She was sick. And the girls had given her well-wishes but that just _hadn't sit well with her_ , because she just so happened to get sick before this sleepover? That they've planned  _weeks_ in advance? After her constant successful attempts to get away from them? From _Lila_? She just didn't believe that.

But they had carried on without her, and there was no obvious tension in the air. No coldness from an unwilling Marinette. They had had _fun_.

And then, the topic changed.

"Does Marinette not like me for some reason?"

Lila exhaled, dejected at the possibility and they all rushed to assure her that _it wasn't anything that she did, Marinette was just acting odd_ , but Alix was as blunt as ever.

"Marinette has _something_ up her butt." She crunched on some potato chips. "We have no idea what the hell's been going on. But she's being _ridiculous_ — questioning your tinnitus? _Constantly_ putting you down?" Lila tried to dissuade her rant, as nice as ever, but Alix wouldn't have it. " _No_! She can't keep treating you like this, Lila."

Alya hadn't said a word at that, because Alix was saying everything that she wanted to say — Marinette _had_ been constantly trying to bring Lila down. She had been looking for _any_ chance to do so. She _couldn't_ give any sort of excuses for her, so she just kept painting Lila's nails.

"....it _is_ weird that Marinette's acting like this." Juleka thoughtfully frowned. "She was never like this before." Something that everyone in the class had commented on, because it was just so obvious. And Alya had to agree, because her friend was changing — was becoming something foreign to her, and _she didn't like it._

"And then intentionally blowing us off? She's _always_ doing this." Alix dropped herself back into the beanbag chair. "I don't know _what's_ going with her."

"I'm sure there were good reasons for her not coming with us in the past." Lila soothed, not wanting to think badly of the girl. "But I can understand why you guys feel that way — you've constantly helped her out before this right?"

"Yeah — we've always helped her come up with ridiculous schemes to help her confess to — " Juleka harshly elbowed Alix, who scowled. "What? We have! And it's pretty _obvious_ that she has a crush on Adrien."

"Oh yeah, I realized it." Lila nodded.

Alix waves her hand, as if to say _you see?_

The Italian girl thought for a moment, "I'm not saying that Marinette's a bad person, but it _does_ seem like she's not being considerate of your feelings. You should talk to her, because you guys shouldn't just _take it_."

And her words bring a pang to her heart, because Lila does have a point. She, along with the other girls _have_ done their best to help Marinette, because she was their friend, she's Alya's _best friend_ , but she _had_ blown them off before. _Numerous times_. She'd been late before. She'd even _forgotten_ some outings. And she doesn't want to think this of the girl, but it _did_ seem pretty one-sided.

    Alya feels sick. And she doesn't sleep easy when the rest of them do.

 

* * *

 

 _Wednesday, April 24 th _ _— Madame Bustier's Class, Collège Françoise Dupont, Paris, France._  
_3:34 pm._

    She tries again, testing the waters. Waits until its after school. Until it's only them. The others went on ahead, saying that they'd wait by the steps.

"Hey, Mari. Let's all go to  _Maison de la Poutine_. Lila's been there and she says that it's great."

Marinette pauses. And she hates that she can't read her face anymore, hates that she can't tell what she's thinking. "All? All _who_?"

"You, me, and the girls: Juleka, Rose and _Lila_." 

She purposely says Lila's name. And she watches for any sign, any clue of what she's thinking. And finally, _finally_  she gets something. Marinette's face drops to a scowl, and Alya _fumes_. And before she can say some excuse to get out of it, Alya cuts in.

"There — _right there_. _Every single time_ I mention Lila. You were going to say how you couldn't come right?"

She exhales heavily, "Alya — "

"What the hell is your problem with Lila? She's never done _anything_ to you." She folds her arms as Marinette continues to pack her things and she feels annoyance course through her. "This needs to _stop_ , Marinette. You're making her feel like she's done something to you, when all it _is_ is just you not being able to get over your ridiculous  _jealously_."

She roughly shoves a book into her bag. "I _told_ you that me disliking her isn't because I'm jealous — "

"Then _what is it_ , Marinette?" She feels like tearing her hair out. "Give me something to _work with_ here! You certainly don't _talk_ to me, so how would I know? If it isn't jealously, then what. _What_ is making you treat Lila like shit?"

Marinette doesn't answer, but she's gone back to scowling. Trying to pack her bag. Trying to get away from this.

_She's not going to let her._

"When was the last time we hung out?" Because Alya doesn't know. Can't recall the last time they had an enjoyable meeting with her. Because Marinette won't even stay behind to spend time with her, much less the rest of the girls. "Because every single you say you can't come. And I know _why_ — because you _hate_ being around Lila. And I — I _miss_ you Mari. Why can't you just get over this?"

Marinette zips her bag up, and turns to look at her. "You know I don't like her, Alya."

"Even though I can't imagine _why_ — yes, I know you do — "

"Then _why_ — " She inhales. "Why do you keep trying to force us together and insist that I get along with her?"

" _Because you're being_  — "

" _Alya_ ," she narrows her eyes, and she steps back a bit because she's _never_ looked at her like that. "I _don't like being_ around her. I'm uncomfortable being around her. And if I don't want to be around her, you should leave it _alone_.  Stop trying to force it."

Alya sputtered, "You _see_ — _you're not even giving her a chance_! _Why?_ You could at least _try_ and act civil, but you're not even doing that! And what about the rest of us? _We're_ trying to help Lila find her footing, doing something nice, and e _very single time_ we can't help but feel awkward because you keep _shooting her eyes_."

"You guys _know_ I don't like her, and _every time_ I try to not be there to prevent that from happening, _I'm the bad guy_!" She growls, tugging one of her pigtails with an agitated hand. 

"Because you're not even attempting to get to know her!" Alya's shouting now, and she doesn't think about the possibility that anyone could hear. Because Marinette's not even _trying_. Because the division's getting bigger. "You're letting your petty jealousy over Adrien get the best of you! And _don't_ try to deny it."

"For the _last_ time, Alya — I'm not _jealous_ of her. _She's a liar_!"

"This again. _This again_. What _proof_ do you have that she's lying, Marinette?"

"Well, if you would just _check_ for once — "

"You wanna know what I think? I think that you're definitely jealous, because Lila's lived an exotic life and she knows a lot of people and she's sitting with Adrien and you have a problem with that. You have _such_ a problem that you're doing _whatever it takes_ to bring her down.  _That's what I think_."

"If you would just _listen_ to me — "

"I'm not going to listen to you make an excuse. Because you've been treating Lila _horribly_ , Marinette, and that's _so unlike you_. You're — " and she hesitates but she needs to say it. " — you're not acting like my best friend. You've changed. Lila said something about how — "

"So you're listening to Lila now?" Her voice is low, _hurt_ and Alya snarls, _exasperated_.

"She said that we shouldn't just take all the times that you've bailed on us just like that, all the times you've brought us together concerning your crush on Adrien — and she's _right_. And I didn't want to think badly of you because of that. But with the whole Lila thing — _you don't talk to me anymore_ , Marinette. It feels like you're _avoiding me_ , and I'm — I'm _hurt_ , Marinette. _I'm trying my best here_ , and you..."

" _I'm hurt!_ " Her voice echoes throughout the classroom. And Alya's voice trails off into shock because Marinette's staring at her, her blue eyes _flaming_ and visible tears threatening to fall. "I'm hurt because _apparently_ you guys are talking about me behind my back, to someone who you don't even _know_ , and you just — you just _listen to her_? What _else_ have you guys been talking about?"

Her voice is glacial, biting and Alya _bristles_. " _Don't be like that_. What _else_ are we supposed to do? You won't talk to _me_ , you _definitely_ won't talk to the others. We _all_ noticed that you're being _ridiculous_ , _what else were we supposed to do_? Why can't you just _get over yourself_  — "

" _I can't believe you_." Marinette's expression is _cold_ , her voice dripping with hurt and Alya feels the same way. "I can't believe that you really think I'm so bad — "

She scoffs, " _What the fuck are we supposed to think_?"

" _I thought we were best friends, Alya!_ "

She clenches her fists, "I thought we were too. But you're not acting like the Marinette I used to know. The Marinette I knew _wouldn't_ treat someone like shit because she couldn't get over her _stupid, fucking jealousy_!"

Marinette opens her mouth once more, before softly laughing. And something in her still stirs at how broken it sounds.

" _I'm not going to deal with this._ " And she walks around her, clearly aiming to leave.

"W — where are you _going_?" Because she _needs_ to know just what's going on with Marinette, because she's losing her best friend. She's _losing her_.

"The bathroom," is all she simply says, her voice wobbly. "Away from _you_."

And the venom in her voice makes Alya flinch back, giving Marinette a window to walk away from her. She jerks herself in motion, head still hot, and goes to the classroom door. But the hallway is clear, all of the students either further off in the school or off the compound, and Marinette's no where to be seen.

The only person by the door is Lila.

"Hey, you hadn't come yet so I came to check on you." Her eyes were wide. Worried. And Alya can't believe how Marinette can't possibly like her.

"Did you see the direction that Marinette went?" Because there were multiple bathrooms around the school, and she needs to get to the bottom of this — 

"Just before I came I saw here go _that_ way." She points off to the right. "Is everything all right?"

She laughs. It was everything _but_ that. "Nope."

"Do you need me to come with you?"

 _That_ wouldn't be good. "No, I'll handle it." She couldn't risk Marinette going off on the girl.

"Okay, good luck." She gives her a hopeful smile. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom and then we'll go, okay?" She points to the left.

"Thanks." And she speeds off, hoping to catch her before she leaves.

    _She doesn't find her._

 

* * *

 

After waiting a bit for Lila, they go to  _Maison de la Poutine_. But all throughout the outing, Alya's mind is elsewhere.

Lila nudges her slightly, "Is everything okay?"

She gives a small smile and a nod. But she can tell that the girl doesn't believe her.

_She's losing her best friend._

 

* * *

 

_Thursday, April 25 th — Collège Françoise Dupont, Paris, France.  _

    She doesn't attempt to call her, thinking that they both need some time to stew in everything. 

And the next day, Marinette doesn't speak to her. Doesn't _look_ at her. And everyone notices: Nino. Adrien. The girls. The class.

Marinette doesn't leave any window for Alya to attempt to talk with her, immediately walking out of class by the sound of the bell. The girls come to her, filled with questions, and she tells them everything. At the end of the day, she assumes that the girl went home, seeing as she took everything with her as she went out the door. So she walked home as well.

    And despite her anger, she couldn't help but think that walking without Marinette was lonely.

 

* * *

 

    She attempts to call that night. And once she sees that the girl hasn't come to school the days after, she calls night _after night after night_. Because she's trying to understand _what's wrong with her_. It was obviously jealously, but _why_ was she letting it have so much power over her?

But she doesn't pick up.

She's thankful for Lila's assurances, for everyone's assurances but she can't help but feel as if she's losing her best friend.

    As if she's already lost her best friend.

 

* * *

 

    She can't walk over to physically talk to her since she's stuck on babysitting duty — maman's orders. Therefore, she can't leave the house.

Embarrassment is starting to rear its ugly head, for how she handled it all, but Anger outweighs it. All she wants to do is wallow in her sadness and anger.

Marinette still isn't answering her calls.

 

* * *

 

_Friday, June 3 rd _ _— Madame Bustier's Class, Collège Françoise Dupont, Paris, France._   
_9:15 am._

    Lila's noticed that she's still not in a happy mood, so she tells her a story of her meeting the Canadian Prime Minister. And she can't help but be interested as Lila speaks of the encounter, because she really did lead an amazing life. And her mind leaves the swirling pool of anger and confusion for a moment to fully immerse herself in Lila's recounting.

But then — 

.

.

.

.

" _What do you mean Marinette doesn't go here anymore?!_ "

 .

.

.

.

Alya has no words, shocked to her core. Because what? _What?_

She doesn't hear the questions from everyone else from Rose's words, because her brain just _couldn't_ connect the last time she saw Marinette to this news. She recalls the way her back was turned, her venomous voice saying how she wanted to get _away from her_ , and _she doesn't understand, what the fuck —_

The _slam_ of Bustier's book on her table interrupts her train of thought, as the teacher slowly says, "Yes, everyone. I'm afraid that Marinette isn't a student here anymore."

She scrambles to stand up, because she doesn't understand, _she doesn't understand_ , "Are you  _sure_ , Mme. Bustier? Marinette wouldn't just leave without saying  _something_!"

Her teacher only eyes her, "I helped her with finalizing her paperwork, Mlle. Césaire. So yes, I'm sure."

She flinches, a huge pang of _hurt_ in her chest. Confusion swimming in her thoughts. Anger coursing through her veins. She just _ran away_? _Just like that?_   _Because of what she said?_ She didn't even _try_ to work this out this out between them, she just left _away from you. away from you. away from you._

Alya's eyes narrowed. _No —_ _Marinette_ might be inclined to just leave without any sort of explanation, but _she_ wasn't. Nothing was right about her, about this, and she's going to get to the bottom of just what is up with Marinette. Get to the bottom of this  _—_ this sudden _transfer_.

"Do you know why she left, Mme. Bustier? It just seems so  _weird_  that she left so suddenly." Lila, as nice as ever, her eyes wide in concern. But _did_ she tell Mme. Bustier? Was the woman the only person Marinette went to, and not Alya  _—_

But the teacher shook her head, "I'm afraid that you'll have to ask her yourselves. I'm not even sure either."

The woman had left after, needing to take a call, but Alya manages to faintly drop in her seat, and she takes in the various concerned questions from the rest of her classmates. Nino pulls her into a one-armed hug while Adrien glanced towards her, and his face held incredible worry and concern. "Should we visit her after school?"

But she shakes her head. " _I'll do it._ "

_She was going to get to the bottom of this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me just say that I'm still upset at how Alya's characterization was handled because _what the fuck?_
> 
> You mean to tell me, that Alya Césaire,  _Ladyblog_ Reporter, Journalist Extraordinaire, Miss _"I Saw that Ladybug had a History Textbook so I'm Going to make Deductions based off that"_? Miss _"I Made a Mistake Thinking Chloe to be Ladybug and I'm Not Going to be so Hasty to Believe"_ _didn't_ investigate what Lila was saying? She just....took her words at face value? _What_?
> 
> Listen, aside from the fact that she had no reason to believe that Lila was lying, you mean to tell me that Alya didn't grow curious about that song that Jagged Stone supposedly wrote about her and wanted to hear it? Because she and Marinette are shown to be fans of him, and while she may not have heard all of his songs, she definitely would've heard _something_ about a song he wrote for someone he viewed to be amazing — _like the one he wrote for Ladybug_.
> 
> Nope. Absolutely not. The whole _point_ of Alya's character is that she's shown to be inquisitive, shown to _question everything_. Shown to stick her nose and show up where she isn't supposed to be. And that episode's writing just — just yeeted that out the fucking window.
> 
> Alya, and the other classmates were essentially chess pieces in that episode's game. They don't _act_ within their set character personalities because they need the episode to go a specific direction. And in order for that to happen, they can't have Alya, or anyone else question the circumstances. I get being manipulated by a liar, but being dumb enough to think that a napkin could possibly blind someone that's wearing glasses _anyway_? Nope. Nope. Nope. That's bad writing.
> 
> But instead of completely vilifying her (even though I absolutely could have), I decided to make her a little close to the original set personality traits for the show. I still kept in the fact that she didn't research a _damn_ thing and that she thinks Marinette's upset because of something as petty as jealously (since in that ep. she's out of character so she's gonna emulate that same personality), but I didn't write her as evil as I could have at least.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, leave a review so I can have some type of feedback, and I'll see you with the next chapter.


	7. sept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had been expecting this, if she was being quite honest.

_Friday, June 3 rd — Madame Bustier's Class, Collège Françoise Dupont, Paris, France. _  
_9:10 am._

Tired.

Adrien Agreste was tired. _Exhausted_.

He was currently slumped over on his desk next to Lila, only braced by the hand holding his face. He was currently running on an hour of sleep and _large_ cup of coffee snuck for him by Nino, on account of the back-to-back night shoots for his father's latest collaboration project with another company. It surely wasn't enough to get through the school day — it hadn't even been a full hour and he wanted nothing more than to go back home — because right now, he didn't _feel_ like he was even in his own body. He had no idea what lucid dreaming was, but if what he had heard about it was correct, then he felt as if he was as close to the phenomenon without actually experiencing it. 

Madame Bustier had given them the period free, looking every bit as _tired_ as he was. Though, it was clearly more than that, since the woman hadn't seemed to even be in the mood to actually deal with any of them today. At least Hawkmoth was nice enough to not even send out any akumas for his and Ladybug's miraculous this week — which, he had thought was odd and possibly should've been more worried, but he guessed even _Hawkmoth_ was able to be busy. Thank god, because the man had some _nerve_ to constantly be sending akumas out on collège students.

At the moment, Alya and Nino were currently engaged into another story that Lila seemed to be telling, something about the Canadian Prime Minister. He exhaled heavily. Lila was another issue _all_ on its own. He understood that she simply wanted attention, and was just lying as a means to get it, but she'd been increasing her number of lies lately for some reason. He had tried his best to deter her from lying (because if she really started being truthful, she'd be much better to talk with), but Lila had refused to. After that really, he'd been content to just let her crash and burn, because it would happen eventually. And she hadn't been truly hurting anyone with her antics. Marinette may have disagreed with him (having taken the approach to antagonize the girl), but he knew that it was for the best. That's how he'd dealt with problems in the past, anyway.

Speaking of Marinette; he eyed the bench at the back of the class — the _empty_ bench at the back of the class.

Marinette had been absent for a week now, and it was getting worrying. In fact, it had been worrying for a _while_ now, because she had been absent longer than that. Sure she was physically present in school, but she hadn't been staying around them as much. Because every time, she had _something else_ to do. _(Never being able to go out with them for lunch, because she always had to help her parents. Never being able to catch a movie, because she wasn't feeling too well. She constantly was stuck doing a project in the Art room. She's doing more assignments to make up for her missed classes.)_  She was _always_ busy. And he had a feeling that it had a lot to do with Lila being much more included in their circle of friends.

Aside from him, (because as much as Marinette may not have liked him that much, he still thought her nice enough to seek out in a group) Alya had been quick to notice it. And she said that she would handle it. Well, he didn't know exactly what had transpired, but the day after that Marinette hadn't even spoken to _her_. To _them_. Everywhere she walked, he could sense the anger exuding from her. Every one else in the class was observant enough to steer clear away from her. And then, at the end of the day, she immediately packed up her things at the sound of the bell and seemingly left. 

He's been sending her messages since last Thursday — because he's incredibly worried. Any other day, he'd be able to supply another synonym for his feelings, but he's _tired_ — and she hasn't responded to any of them. He'd been meaning to visit her during this week, but the photo-shoots had stopped that plan from happening. Since it was Friday, and since he'd finally be free from photo-shoots, he'd visit her later tonight as Chat Noir. He'd do it right after school, but he still had fencing lessons.

He hopes she's okay. Maybe she's sick?

"That's _so_ awesome, Lila."

It may have been impolite to not be paying attention to a conversation (he could _hear_ his father reprimanding him), but at the moment, Adrien couldn't find it within himself to give half a fuck. Much less a _whole_ one. Besides, he wasn't up for playing along with Lila's storytelling right now. 

But then he manages to catch a laugh (probably Lila's), and then realizes that Lila seems _much_ closer than she previously was.

What he does find within himself, is the strength in his limbs to actually inch away from the girl. He's sure that she doesn't mean any harm, but he can't help but feel uncomfortable whenever Lila gets extremely touchy.

Adrien sighs, closing his eyes from a moment, and feeling the burn of not shutting them for a while. Man, he _really_ wants to go to back to his room. Just to curl up in the comfort of his bed like the cat that he was. Sleep well enough to have pleasant dreams of himself and his lady, without the daunting existence of Hawkmoth, and they could possibly even share a — 

" _What do you mean Marinette doesn't go here anymore?!_ "

He froze at Rose's screech. And he wasn't sure if his tired brain had _somehow_ manifested a horrible thought and made him mishear Rose (science was an incredible thing, it could happen), because it didn't make any sense. Nausea began to well up in the pit of his stomach.

"Marinette's not going here anymore?"

_"What?!"_

"That  _can't_  be true!"

"There's  _no way_  she just left without so much as a single goodbye to  _any_  of us."

He slowly eyed Mme. Bustier at her desk, who looked even more exhausted than she did when she first entered class. She rubbed her temples for a second, a defeated slump to her shoulders and Adrien's stomach twisted even more, because that meant that Rose _was_ telling the truth. Marinette really _wasn't_ going here anymore. And he couldn't help but think of the last time he'd seen her — angry, upset, and giving them all the silent treatment. Not speaking up in class unless she absolutely had to. _Was that an indication of this?_

Mme. Bustier exhaled as she grabbed one of her books, _slamming_ it on the desk to get everyone to quiet down. He jumped at the sound, but stared at her, awaiting. 

"Yes, everyone. I'm afraid that Marinette isn't a student here anymore."

The confirmation made him flinch. And the rest of his classmates start chattering again, obviously shocked by this. And Alya quickly stands up from her desk behind him, eyes wide with hurt, and tears threatening to fall. Because of course, the last time Alya spoke to Marinette, it clearly hadn't ended _well_. _Did she leave because of that argument?_ But he immediately casts that thought away. Even if they did argue, Marinette didn't seem to be the type of person to pack up and leave because of _that_. Then again, he has no idea what could've transpired. Perhaps the argument was the catalyst. 

"Are you  _sure_ , Mme. Bustier? Marinette wouldn't just leave without saying  _something_!"

Mme Bustier only looks at her, "I helped her with finalizing her paperwork, Mlle. Césaire. So yes, I'm sure."

He could tell, by the way Alya flinched back at that, that she truly was affected — of course she would be, she's Marinette's best friend...or, his heart sinks, _was_. 

"Do you know why she left, Mme. Bustier? It just seems so  _weird_  that she left so suddenly." Lila questioned from beside him, eyes wide. And that was a good question, because if the woman handled her paperwork, surely she must have some idea as to  _why_.

But the teacher shook her head, "I'm afraid that you'll have to ask her yourselves. I'm not even sure either." _Oh._ Maybe by "finalizing her paperwork", she just meant authorizing it and sending it to Principal Damocles. She was then alerted to her phone, most likely getting a call. "If you all can go back to your previous activities — I'll be stepping outside for just a moment."

But there was no way that they could go back to their previous activities. Not after _that_.

While everyone else in the class speaks amongst themselves, he turns to see Alya. She had sat back down, face worryingly blank. Nino was currently pulling her into a one-armed hug, while Lila placed her hand over hers on the desk, "I'm so sorry, Alya." She didn't seem to hear her though. 

He was much more awake now, and anxiety thrummed in his bones. Because he still couldn't wrap his head around it.  _Marinette isn't a student here anymore._ "Should we visit her after school?" Because he'd do it. He'd _gladly_ miss thirty minutes of his fencing lessons if it meant finding Marinette and trying to understand it all.

But Alya shook her head, " _I'll do it._ " And that.... _that_ was even more worrying. He knew Alya had a tendency to act on her emotions than having a...civil discussion. And right now, she seemed.... _angry_. Determined, by the way her eyes were narrowed.  But it was her friend, so maybe it wouldn't be _too_ bad. No matter, he wasn't just going to leave seeing her up to Alya _alone_. He could see Plagg's head poke out from his bag, a questioning look in his green eyes, and he gave a slight nod.

 _Tonight_.

 

* * *

 

 _Cardinal Lemoine Station ·_ _The Paris Métro, The Paris metropolitan area_ _, France._  
_4:05 pm._

Marinette was quiet as she left the metro station entrance. It wasn't as sweltering as it could've been with the upcoming near-summer weather, and around this time; the afternoon air started to inch into the eventual chill that the evening would bring. She was glad for her hoodie over her top half, her legs shivering at the breeze.

She welcomed the background noise of Paris, France: The wisps of various, indiscernible conversations carried off by the wind. The excited screams of children playing and running after each other. The whirring of cars. The subtle splashing of the Seine River. They were comforting, but as much as she would prefer to be immersed in the environment, her mind couldn't help but drift back to Mme. Bustier's call.

 _I could see it in her eyes. She's going to come see you eventually._ Marinette groaned. She had done her best to prolong her time after school, wanting to speak with Principal Moreau on signing her up for the school's shuttle service.  _Collége Françoise Dupont_ was definitely over by now, and she _knew_ that Alya was going to come over at the first window of opportunity. 

 _The Marinette I knew wouldn't treat someone like shit because she couldn't get over her stupid, fucking jealousy!_ She growled softly. She called her mother beforehand to take care of Alya in case she came around immediately after school. She just — she just _couldn't deal with her right now_. She'd just be angry, and demanding, and audaciously assuming, and Marinette _knows_ that she'd just blow up at her.

But despite how aggravated she was, Marinette couldn't deny the what she really was feeling was _hurt_. Hurt because Alya, like the rest of the class, thought her so disagreeable of a person that she'd hate on a new person for _no fucking reason_. Hurt because Alya, _her supposed best friend_ , _couldn't_ see what the big deal was, hadn't cared to actually  _ask_ her how she felt about letting her sit with her boyfriend, and at the end had left her to be by herself at the back of the class. _Hurt_ , because Alya hadn't _once_ believed her on _anything_ — hadn't even questioned just _why_ she hadn't liked Lila from the start, had just blamed her feelings on something as petty as jealously _(but initially you were. yeah, but I got over that — when i realized what she truly was, I got over myself)_ and at the end of it all, just believed the words of _some girl_ over her own _friend_ — 

"Marinette!" She blinked past the moisture in her eyes — _when had she started crying?_  — and stared down to her pouch, until her kwami finally came into focus. And she sighed, because she _knew_   what Tikki was about to say. She couldn't afford to get upset again, she had already been targeted by Hawkmoth, had already been _this_ close to being fully akumatized _multiple times_. _With her position as Ladybug, she couldn't afford_  — 

But then Tikki zips out from her hiding place — and Marinette feels slight panic tremor through her because, _what if someone sees_  —  and with a surprising amount of force, straightens her head forward. And she blinks in confusion, before drawing her eyes behind Tikki before freezing — 

The walk to the bakery seemed all too short, because she was _already_  here....

 _....and Alya was at the front door_.

She violently lurched back, reeling, _something_ coming over her.  _She can't see me She can't see me She can't me —_

The mantra reverberated through her, as her eyes took in the scene before her, where she stood on the sidewalk in an immobile, hushed and aborted movement. But her legs jump-started without another thought, and she ducked into the right side of the bakery. She wouldn't be seen, the tinted one-sided windows would prevent that from happening. Tikki immediately trailed after her, tucked into her hood behind her.

For a split second; fear pricked at her, at the possibility that Alya might've seen her and would subsequently call out her name or try to come over to her hiding spot. But as her ears were peeled, there was no sound of determined footsteps. No summoning for her to come out. _No indication that she was seen_.

Alya's voice was pitched high, as she carried on speaking. She hadn't seen her. _Good._

If Tikki hadn't stopped her in time, she would've walked straight into the conversation. _Straight into Alya_.

Marinette could feel herself tremble with her back against the wall — in anger or fright she doesn't know. What she _does_ know is that she refuses to let Alya see her. 

And, despite her racing heart and swirling thoughts, she listens.

 

* * *

 

 _Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie · 12 Rue Gotlib, 21st arrondissement, Paris, France._  
_3:15 pm._

She had been expecting this, if she was being quite honest.

In fact, if she was being even _more_ honest; despite the days that had slowly, steadily trickled by, Sabine had been expecting this _ever since_ they had completely pulled Marinette out of school.

And there were multiple reasons. For one: Marinette's old classmates had known her ever since they were all extremely young. She wouldn't expect them to just let the news of Marinette's departure be said and _not_ at least question why. Some of them would eventually come to the bakery to see and question her _(though, with Marinette's recollection about how most of her classmates had been before she left, she wasn't quite sure about this one)_.

The second? She _knew_ Mlle. Alya Césaire. They had been the best of friends for a little over a year now, and Sabine knew that that girl wouldn't take that news laying down. Within the many times the girl had been over at their house, she had observed numerous specifics to the girl's exuberant personality. She was quite headstrong, and rather.... _invasive_. While she was sure that the girl hadn't meant any harm by her curiosity, she tended to do whatever it took to find out what she wanted. 

So when Marinette called around lunch to ask her to not let Alya see her (or more specifically, to not let her into the bakery or her room), she reassured her daughter, because she understood what could happen. Alya would come barreling towards the bakery _(even despite how Marinette said that she treated her, because she hadn't let anyone know that she was leaving)_ , and _if_ she caught sight of her daughter, there would just be an out-load of questions that Marinette wouldn't be able to deal with right now.

 _Marinette hadn't really dealt with it much_ , Sabine frowned. _Not really._

She may have been dropping the ball here — it had only been a little over a week, after all — but aside from the tears she had shed during the school scouting, there wasn't as much acknowledgement concerning the situation. Her daughter had just been trying to integrate into the new school environment, and she and Tom did their best to question her on her first week. But she knew that Marinette needed to tackle that a bit more, that she needed to talk about it more.

 _Maybe she should talk with someone professional?_ She thinks for a moment. She knew that many people didn't think that speaking with a therapist was necessary when they didn't have a specific issue with their mental health, or that their problems were bad enough to warrant it. But everyone should be able to speak on and dissect anything that stressed them in life, whether it be someone who they trusted, or a stranger — the therapist — no matter the issue. And while she was sure that Marinette would speak with them on anything else, she knew that the girl wouldn't tell them _everything_. It took a while before she even told them about _this_.

 _Perhaps she should do meditation?_ Mediation techniques _did_ help in relieving stress and grounding. She could probably enroll in mediation classes by Master Wang Fu, it was one of his specialties, and he was renowned in all of France for being able to read energy and improve the health of persons. She had been there before, and it had worked for her.

Sabine wearily sat at one of the bakery's tables. Because while she had already talked at length with Tom about it, this was something they needed to talk to Marinette about. _Later, not right now._ Because right now, she needed to look out for Alya.

So she waited. And waited. It was a slow business day, so not that many people entered the bakery. There wasn't even the usual after-school rush. Then again, that wasn't weird, it was Friday. They never really got a large number of students at the end of the week. She glances towards the clock: _3:30_. Alya hadn't rushed over here immediately after her classes. 

She frowned, thinking. If _she_ were in Alya's position, instead of being early, she'd show up at a time when she knew the other _had_ to be home.....

.....but Marinette, just like Sabine had initially, clearly was expecting her to come around right after  _Collège Françoise Dupont_ had ended its classes for the day. Meaning she was most likely —  _intentionally_ — extending her time at school or travel home. Taking those two details into account, they could very well reach the bakery around the same time..... 

..... which would be _highly_ problematic, since the chance of the two meeting would be incredibly _disastrous_. 

Soft curses escaped her. She _could_ call Marinette and tell her to wait a bit longer, but she really didn't know what time Alya would try to appear. If she came closer to the late evening, Marinette would definitely be home by then. And it wouldn't be an issue for the girl considering that Alya didn't live that far. _Well then....._

So she continued waiting amongst Martin's cleaning of the table-tops, eyes still fixed on the clock. It was almost four, meaning Marinette would be home soon. 

She exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment and praying under her breath.  _Please don't let them come here at the same time — Marinette wouldn't be able to handle that right now...not to mention an infuriated Alya..._

"Madame Cheng?" 

Her eyes flash open. She turned her head to watch as her newest employee stood in the entrance of the bakery, holding the door open. She cleared her throat, allowing a small smile despite herself. "How many times have I told you to call me Sabine, Martin?"

The boy flushed under her teasing, with the air of someone who had heard this _many_ times before, bashfully chuckling. "S-Sabine," he fumbled with the unfamiliarity of the name. "Uh — you said to call you if that girl showed up, so..."

He had been notified in case she wasn't immediately there when Alya came by (she'd already been over numerous times after his hiring, so he had an idea of who exactly she was and what she looked like). Sabine stood up at once, patting his shoulder comfortingly before she quickly made her way outside. "Thank you, Martin. Leave through the other entrance when you're done, okay?"

She closed the bakery door behind her, awaiting the girl to come up — and upon taking a _good_ look at her, she knew Marinette was right to call her.

Because logically, of course, Sabine knew that Alya would never do anything to intentionally — premeditatedly and antagonistically — hurt her daughter (she most likely would've deluded herself to not think that Marinette would be affected by how she treated her). But she knew that harsh words can fly when tempers raise, and she knew that Alya was an impulsive, _reckless_ young woman. But after whatever incredible argument the two had that left Marinette _distraught_ and wailing and _this_ close to a full-scale _panic attack_ , Sabine vowed that she would do everything in her power to ensure to protect her from anything _(because she hadn't been there before, hadn't paid enough attention)_.

Even if — _especially_ if — that anything included her daughter's former friend who she clearly did not want to see right now.

The girl walked up to her, determination in her steps and she looked...

Well, she looked upset obviously. She looked _angry_ , clearly. But her resolute-ridden aureate eyes hadn't once drifted from hers in her sprint-walk to the bakery and Sabine couldn’t help raising her eyebrows in wonder. There was a flicker of _something_ in her gaze as she stood in front of her — Pure rage that was being held back? Indignation? Confusion?  

No, she realized after a moment. Because Sabine can see, as clear as day, that she was — without a doubt, _hurt_. And as much as Sabine wants to be inconsiderate in this conversation (because it was _her daughter_ that came home crying, it was _her daughter_ that hadn't been given a second thought for some lying, treacherous bully and being put down simply for her personal feelings), she couldn't help the thoughts of _consider this from her perspective_ , _because if she's feeling hurt, perhaps it's not as clear cut as you thought_. And she exhaled, because Alya _was_ completely in the wrong for what she did in that argument, she shouldn't have handled it the way she did, and her actions were questionable as a friend. But _maybe she truly didn't know._ But at the end of it all, _did that really matter?_

"Bonne après-midi, Madame Cheng."

She eyed the girl  _—_ she was only the mother in this situation _._ And while she certainly had numerous questions concerning Alya's line of thinking in this entire situation, _now wasn't the time_. Because Marinette would be home soon, and she _couldn't_ have her and Alya meet, not when she was like this, hurt and upset. Because she knew Alya, and that would lead to her lashing out even more, and then Sabine would have to absolutely, unrelentingly step in  _—_ squaring her shoulders, her back straight _._ "Alya."

She didn't seem to notice the slow, cautious way that the woman spoke, her mind likely caught up with other matters. "Is Marinette home? I need to speak with her about something important."

Her fists clenched at her sides at that, and Sabine knew she was right in her judgement. Alya was in _no_ state to have a calm discussion — though, she didn't think that she would be for a long, _long_ time, concerning the issue. "She isn't, she should still be at school." Truthfully, she should be on her way home, but she couldn't have Alya knowing that.

She flinched at the mention of Marinette still being at school _(a new school, away from her and the others)_ , head dropping and eyes trailing down to her feet. "Oh."

Again, the thoughts of  _perhaps it's not as clear cut as you thought_ flashed once more, but she let the ice take over — ice from her protectiveness over her daughter and this entire situation — as she said, "Although, I don't think that you should be here when she eventually does come home." She scanned everywhere behind her quickly, searching for any hint of her daughter just in case.

Alya promptly picked her head up to stare at her. Her eyes were wide with raw disbelief and overwhelming _shock_ as she blinked at her  _—_ before she hesitantly manages a " _What_?"

Sabine simply stared back, and she could see, through the flickering of emotions on her face, when Alya truly understood the situation — because after a week of Marinette being absent, and going to a new school, there was no possible way that both she and Tom didn't have an idea of why she left. There was no way that they didn't know _everything_ about the time before she decided to leave. _Especially_ their argument.

The young girl straightened, "I just — I jut want to know _why_ she left. She didn't tell me anything, she....she _hasn't_ been telling me anything lately." That last part was only a murmur, most likely something that she wasn't supposed to hear, but Sabine caught it all the same. "She hasn't been answering my calls _either_ , and then she just up and _leaves_...." 

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, before opening them to narrow, "I just want to know _why_."

So Alya truly had _no idea_ what she did, or had any idea of the full picture. To _her_ , Marinette just seemed to up and leave without a good reason and hadn't had the decency to tell her, especially after their argument. _Perhaps it's not as clear cut as you thought._

But it wasn't her place to explain. Because right now, she wanted to tell Alya everything she'd been told about this Lila girl. But if Alya's reaction at Marinette's earlier attempts were an indication, the girl wouldn't believe a word she was saying. And she knew that no matter what she said, Alya would still try to track her daughter down. "She left because she wanted to start over. If you do want to know why, you'll have to ask her yourself. But for now, she doesn't want to _see_ you."

Her eyes widen at that, and she sputters. " _Madame Cheng_ , Marinette's been acting weird since the last time I saw her." Then, her tone starts to drip with distaste — at what, she didn't know.  "And I know  _why_ — she's been treating someone awfully for a while now, and that girl doesn't deserve it and — "

Sabine bristled, because it was clear that even though Alya had no idea of what was going on, she _still_ viewed Marinette as the one in the wrong. "From what _I've_ been told," she held back the protective fury slightly — only _slightly_ , "that girl isn't exactly the most truthful."

Alya scowled, "Marinette's _constantly_ been saying that Lila's a liar. But there's no truth to it, and I know that she's only been pushing this because she views Lila as a threat, _because_ on her crush on — "

"You know, it's _quite_ late, Alya. Perhaps you should go on home." The girl flinched back at the sudden winter-like, frigid tone her voice now took — Sabine could only imagine. She'd never spoken to any of Marinette's old classmates like she was doing now, much less _Alya_. And she knew that they most likely couldn't begin to fathom that she could even find it within herself to be _harsh_. Oh, she _knew_ , and she always took advantage of people underestimating her like that. "It'd be best for everyone if you left before Marinette came home. I'll tell her you stopped by, but maybe it's for the best that you have this conversation another day."

Alya fumbled over her words — clearly panicked at the clear dismissal to leave and at Sabine's disposition. "But — but Madame Cheng, I _really_ need to talk to — " 

"Are you really going to talk, or is this going to be another shouting match?" Her words were jagged. "Because something tells me that, aside from trying to figure out what's happening, if I let you see my daughter, you're going to yell." And as unfortunate as the circumstances were, as much as Alya truly had no idea, she also _knew_ her.... "And I _refuse_ to just let you shout at her." Because if that happened, Sabine wouldn't give a _damn_ that it was Alya. She would step in and _defuse_ it, regardless of how angry she got.

The young girl's eyes were wide and fearful. " _So therefore_ ," she lowly said. "I suggest you go home for now, and try to broach this conversation _another time_." Sabine knew damn well that Alya wouldn't be able to reach her for a _good_ while  — Marinette had gotten a new phone, and once she told her of this conversation, she'd be ensuring that Alya wouldn't get a chance to catch her.

Alya took a moment, her jaw tightening, but Sabine only stared. She let her see the simply arching of her eyebrow, let Alya be reminded just who exactly she was talking to. Because as much as the girl had a tendency to push and push and push, she was Marinette's _mother_. As nice as she was — and Sabine would like to think that she's a nice woman; after this evening's conversation, she would think that Alya would think _twice_ about bypassing her suggestion. _(At least she wasn't as harsh as she could've been.)_

After a while, she cleared her throat, eyes downcast. But there was still anger emanating from her. "Right. Bonne soirée, Madame Cheng. And — " she hesitated before speaking. "— can you please let Marinette know that I was here?"

She nodded, "I will. Bonne soirée, Alya. Au revoir."

"......Au revoir." And with that, she walked back in the direction she came, most likely going to her house. 

Sabine watched until she disappeared from her sight, before exhaling heavily. She opened the bakery door, and closed it behind her.

 

* * *

 

She hears the defeated drawl from Alya — her back still against the wall — and listens to her retreating footsteps, her heartbeat ringing in her ears.

She waits a moment, before there's a weary exhale from her mother, and the chime of the bell above the bakery door. She's gone back inside. 

Alya still thought that she was being delusional. She still thought that her actions were because she was jealous. That she was _ridiculous_.

"Marinette?"

The gasp that escaped from her throat was almost involuntary, and she glanced forward again. Tikki — Tikki was hovering by her face, blue-bell eyes wide with worry and sadness and a bunch of things that she couldn't name right now, things that she didn't _want_ to name right now (because she really didn't feel like tackling _anything_ right now, she just wanted to go to bed and block it all out with sleep), watching her with hesitation. 

She exhaled, quickly leaning off the wall to go inside. _Not now. Not right now_.

" _Marinette!_ " Alarmed. As if she wasn't believing that she was going to ignore this right now. But she was. She's been tired ever since this morning and she needs to go to sleep.

She pushed open the bakery door, the bell signaling her entrance. Her mother hadn't gotten far, jumping at the sound and quickly turning to her.

"Tiánxīn, you're home." _Sweetheart, you're home._ She gave a smile, walking forward with her arms open. "How was your day?"

Was her mother not going to mention Alya's appearance? No matter, she was content with that. She really didn't feel up to it right now. "Pretty draining. I really just want to go sleep it off."

Warm arms wrapped around her, and Marinette sank into the embrace, the closeness, the contact soothing her body from the fleeing adrenaline.  "I can imagine." She listens to the comforting rumble from her mother's chest. "You need to eat before that though. I'll start dinner soon, okay? I'll call you to come down when it's time."

That would be a few hours from now. So in order to not think about this, she needed to keep herself busy. But not in her room — Tikki would most likely try to corner her into speaking about this. She needed to do something.

"Is Papa in the kitchen?"

"He should be, yes. Most likely putting the bread and cakes away."

"I'll go help him." She tried to seem as if she'd be able to. "It'll be faster with the both of us." Even though she was going to take her sweet time.

"If you want to, sweetie. Like you said, you're tired."

"Don't worry, maman. I can handle it."

_She needed to do something._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A) First off: Puppeteer 2. I would just like to know _why_ they keep on embarrassing Marinette horrifically again and again even thought it doesn't lead to any real character development? Why are her feelings always _the joke_ of the episode?  
> I've never had this happen to me but I can only imagine how horrible it feels to be embarrassed over and over again just because you have a crush. Like, this is the only treatment Marinette's been getting, they've only been weirdly fixated on her crush on Adrien even though there hasn't been any true character development from it and I am _tired._ That episode left a bad taste in my mouth. _What was the reason?_
> 
> (B) New announcements from San Diego Comic Con:  
> 
> 1\. There are now public Instagrams for Adrien, Marinette, Alya and Chloe (all right [here](https://www.instagram.com/adrienagrestebrand/), [here](https://www.instagram.com/marinettedesigned/), [here ](https://www.instagram.com/alya.ladyblogger/)and [here](https://www.instagram.com/theofficialchloebourgeois/). _No Nino Instagram though Zagtoon what the hell is this disrespect you cowards_ ). They already have over _200k followers what the hell people_
> 
> 2\. There will apparently be a future episode where Marinette and Kagami [become ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/bfdf956b0b11c8c6c2b5dd522e751d70/4d420d08abb1f1c4-df/s640x960/9e4a8006ac0554f443bf25afec0f4d2e5204673f.jpg)[friends ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/5f73e323e1553668282a7c9df7164e16/6ac14fa8ce67e18f-ad/s400x600/295f1cc386dd3104107d1923911e109773efa40d.jpg)( _delicious. finally, some good fucking food and characterization._ )
> 
> (C) I wasn't expecting all these kudos?? Thank you guys so much!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, leave a review so I can have some type of feedback, and I'll see you with the next chapter.


	8. huit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can't just expect it all to go away just like _that_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello yes, i've been in university for nine days and i'm already feeling the weariness in my bones;;;;
> 
> send help.

_The Dupain-Cheng home · 12 Rue Gotlib, 21st arrondissement, Paris, France._  
_7:05 pm._

Marinette wasn't enjoying dinner.

She never _hated_ having dinner with her family, no; not like how many dramatic teenagers in those American movies and television shows hated to spend time with their family, because she truly loved and appreciated her parents. Dinners in the Dupain-Cheng household were usually communicative, with everyone sharing what had happened in their individual lives for the day, or commenting on whatever was happening on the news. Papa would make some puns while her and her Maman would playfully roll their eyes in solidarity.

No, Marinette had never not enjoyed dinner — not until she sat down in uncharacteristic silence, a newscaster reading their report being the only thing filling the quietude. Not until she was forcing herself to keep her head down and her eyes on her food, in an attempt to avoid her parents' eyes, ignoring their staring. Not until her brief glances caught both her Maman and Papa simply eating, sending each other looks she couldn't decipher. 

She _definitely_ wasn't enjoying dinner right now, discomfort rising in her chest. They were still staring at her, not saying a word. She's sure that they have something to discuss with her, something important, and are trying to find some way to start the conversation. Maybe it concerned Alya's coming to the bakery. No, not maybe — it _definitely_ concerned Alya's visit to the bakery.  But she's _tired_ ; and had done everything to prolong any acknowledgement of this evening — helping her father downstairs, intentionally staying in the living room so Tikki wouldn't try to talk with her, staying around her mother, _everything_. 

And it seemed as though that wasn't enough.

And as much as she would very much prefer to go upstairs and burrow under her covers, she knew that her parents wouldn't let her leave without talking about it, seeing as they were already so concerned about it. And if her parents weren't going to start, then she might as well to make it hurry along quicker.

So with an exhale, she gently placed her fork down and ventures, "What's wrong?"

They eyed her back, and she watches as they share one last indiscernible look before her maman took control of the conversation.

"Alya came by earlier today."

Maman's grey eyes searched her for any indication for how she felt about that statement, and really — Marinette was too _tired_ to pretend as if she didn't already know that, as if she hadn't heard their entire conversation. She wearily drooped in her chair, "I know. I heard the two of you talking."

The older woman blinked, before her expression shifted — she'd always hated the way her forehead wrinkled whenever she heard something troubling. Her eyes also caught the tight frown her father wore. It never failed to make her feel guilty, and every single time she always strived to never make her parents this worried again. She only knows that they're this worried because of how upset she was a week ago. She needed to stop troubling them so much. 

"And...how do you feel about that?"

Tired. Oh, so, fucking _tired_. But she should probably vocalize her feelings better.

" _Tired_?" She froze, eyes darting to her father. He was leaning forward, "How long have you been feeling this way, Marinette?"

 _Shit_. Did she say that out loud? Was she so tired that she couldn't control what she said anymore?

"Yes, you did."

 _Shit_. "Shit."

Maman couldn't help the disapproving look aimed at her language, and she clears her throat, sluggishly picking up her glass of orange juice. Truthfully, she only started to feel like this from this morning, what with the chaotic morning she'd had. But it had fully reached its peak from Mme. Bustier's call, and hadn't let up since. It heavily weighed on her throughout the rest of the day, and she fought hard against its cloudiness as to not get in trouble with her teachers, because she couldn't afford to. It was only her first week, and she can't have the teachers think that she isn't a good student. "Only today."

She's doesn't think that her answer soothed their worries, because they give each other another look, one that she can finally decipher as _worry_.  And she attempts to make it go away. " _Really_! Really guys, it's only been from today. Me waking up late, and the whole thing with Alya and everyone else — " Her body grew even _more_ tired at the thought, if it was even possible. " — I'm just not ready to see any of them right now. And thanks for telling me, Maman. I'll just have to watch my time in coming home. It should be fine since I signed up for the shuttle service at school."

Maman doesn't lose that wrinkle. "No problem, sweetheart. But..."

Papa continues from where she trails off, a bit slowly. "Actually sweetie....that's not what we really wanted to talk about."

She blinks, "Oh?"

He leans forward, "Marinette. We know that it's only been a week since...everything. And we know that it's still very fresh, but....we're worried that you may not be dealing with it well."

She frowns. But she's been settling into  _École Louise Vallayer-Coster pour Les Arts_ nicely, better than how she expected her first week to go. And while she's out of place with the other more wealthier students, she's hopeful that they're truly a better atmosphere than her old school. "But I haven't had any issues with school yet."

"We're not talking about the school, sweetie." He exhales. "Or, not your new one anyway. We're talking about  _Collège Françoise Dupont_ and your old classmates. We don't think that you're dealing with it well. You haven't been acknowledging it much unless you _have_ to." 

 _Oh_.

Her mouth runs dry, "I just want to get over it."

"And we understand. But I don't think that avoiding it is best."

She stares down at her food. It's bound to already be cold at this point. If only she was spending this time eating it. "I'm not avoiding it." Thoughts push at the forefront of her mind however: _Yes, you are. You're trying to avoid it because you don't want to deal with it right now. You can't deal with it right now. You just want to sleep._ But she attempts again, "I'm not."

And yet, the images of her old phone stuffed in a drawer, and mountain of pictures with her old classmates dashed away said otherwise.

"Tiánxīn," _Sweetheart._ Maman places a hand on hers. "I understand that you just want to leave it behind you. But, you can't just expect it all to go away just like _that_. You saw it this afternoon. Alya wants to talk with you about it, and she's not going to give up anytime soon." Her hand shakes in her mother's grasp. "You say that you've only been tired from today, and I believe you since you woke up late, but we think it's also resulted from everything accumulating at once. You only officially left  _Françoise Dupont_ a little over a _week_ ago, and you transferred within that same week. It's a new shift that may be affecting you. Alya coming over was just a reminder of that."

"And that's what we're concerned about, Marinette." Papa eyes her with distress. "While we may be ahead of ourselves, because it's only been a week, we just don't want you to ignore everything in the name of leaving it behind you. We know that the past few times when you had acknowledged it, you — " and he cut himself off, clearing his throat. " — you were almost taken over by Hawkmoth. So you're trying to prevent that from happening again. That's not healthy. We want you to deal with it in a healthy manner."

There are a few things that Marinette wants to do after hearing their words:

 _Protest_ , for one. Because they're overreacting a _bit_ , it's only been a week after all. And she wasn't planning to ignore all of that for  _long_. She's only been tired today, because of her horrible morning, and she knows resting is going to make it all go away.

 _Cry_ , for another. Because the feelings she's suppressed about it all is resurfacing, along with the tears to accompany it. Because she's being forced to acknowledge it once again, and the last two times she did were filled with _all_ sorts of uncomfortable.

But then she has to admit that subconsciously, she _had_ been trying to not focus on the matter of her old school. She _had_ been trying to keep her emotions down. As the heroine of Paris, France; it is her duty to ensure that she doesn't fully succumb to Hawkmoth's control. She's already _been_ slacking, what with letting Hawkmoth into her head  _multiple times_. She _can't_ be so susceptible anymore. Like Tikki's been telling her. She needs to get rid of this negativity. Tikki's right. _They're_ right.

So despite it all, and through her tiredness; she takes in their overwhelming worry, and the unfinished food on her plate, removes her hand from under maman's to join them together by the fingers and murmurs, closing her eyes, "How?" The burn of not shutting her eyes for a while cause tears to show up.

Papa reaches for her other hand, "Your mother and I have been discussing a little. Been doing some research," Because of course, they always spoke with each other on everything. "But there's only so much you and the two of us can do. And while there are methods you can research and do on your own, maybe you need a professional."

She knows what's the main thing he's suggesting. "You mean like a therapist?"

Maman's warm and steady voice soothes her immediate discontent. "Not necessarily. You _can_ talk with a therapist about this. It doesn't matter that your problem may not be as big as anyone else's — it's still too much for you to handle. It might be better to talk to a stranger about this. There would be psychotherapist-patient confidentiality, and we'll never know. Even I know that even you can't tell us everything, and that's fine."

Her maman was right, as she always was. She couldn't tell them _everything_. Ladybug was still a well-kept secret. And she understands where they're both coming from. But the idea of talking with a complete stranger over something so _trivial_ , considering their line of work? Not to mention the fact that she couldn't be completely honest, considering her superheroing duties? That seemed....

"What else is there?"

"There's meditation. And other stress-relieving techniques." Maman continues. "While you could just research some, maybe it would be best if you got help from someone who specializes in this. There's Master Wang Fu, very good teacher. He has classes that have been a great help to many, and they always tackle the problem at the root." 

Well then. This option would help with her superheroing. She's already welcome to Master Fu, and he's always professed that she must do her best to ensure that she keeps a strong mind to be the hero she is. Tikki would probably agree with this the most. _She can't be so susceptible anymore._ She needs to tackle it.

 _They're right._   

They always were. And in the rarity of times in which they weren't, they always had her best interests at heart. "You're right. But can I think about it over the weekend? I really am tired." This conversation has made her more somnolent.

She finally looks her parents in the face, takes in their expressions, and she can see a slight twitch from them at her response. And she thinks that she's slightly disheartened them — _they were probably expecting you to make up your mind on it now, to reach some sort of conclusion tonight_ — and she would've felt awful had it not been for her papa squeezing her hand, "Of course, Marinette. We know how tiring this must be for you."

She gives him a grateful attempt at a smile.

Maman gestures towards her now disgustingly-cold dinner. "Are you still hungry? If not, I'll just put it in the fridge." Marinette doesn't feel hungry anymore. And from the beginning, she had a feeling that whatever this conversation would be about would result in her losing her appetite. 

"Thanks," And she removes her hands from theirs. "I think I'll just go up and sleep now." But she feels a nudge from one of her pants legs and conceals a grimace. 

 _Not if Tikki had anything to say about it._   

"Alright." And when she gets up, her father calls out her name. He gives her a warm, reassuring smile, "We love you, sweetie." He must've realized that she needed to hear it. 

Marinette feels her mother's gaze and turns, finding a similar smile on her face.

She returns it, dipping her head gratefully. She really has great parents.

"Love you too."

 

* * *

 

 _Marinette's room· The Dupain-Cheng home, Paris, France._  
_8:25 pm._

In her post-discussion tiredness, Marinette flops onto her chaise with a sigh, a hand over her eyes because she knows what's coming.

"Marinette?"

She doesn't answer, the sluggish feeling in her limbs making her weigh the pros and cons of sitting back up. What if she pretended to fall asleep? A long shot, but with her tired state, believable enough — 

"Marinette, it's obvious you aren't sleeping."

_Ugh._

She musters the strength to remove the arm over her eyes, finding the kwami hovering over her face expectantly. She's frowning, eyes staring down into hers. Marinette grumbles, getting up from her extremely comfortable laying position.

"Your parents' suggestions were pretty good. You could probably do both options."

Marinette makes some non-committal noise in response, standing to pick up her pajamas off the end of her chaise to change. She'll forgo taking a night shower, her limbs feel ten pounds heavier. 

"Though, going to Master Fu would be a better solution to all of this." The kwami sits down on her vanity, watching as her chosen changes. "He knows about _both_ of your lives, and he'd have techniques to ensure that Ladybug doesn't become susceptible to Hawkmoth."

She opens her mouth, closes it, and shakes her head.

The thing is — she _knows_ that Tikki is right. She knows. This issue is affecting her, but it's a bigger threat to Paris and its citizens. To _Ladybug_.  She _knows_ the importance of her alter-ego. She takes Tikki's wise words to heart, holds herself up to that standard. But sometimes.....

Sometimes, it feels as if everyone cares about Ladybug than they do her. And it's wrong for her to get annoyed, wrong for that usual irritated flare up to show up because she understands. _It's bigger than her_ , she knows. And it's wrong to make it seem as if Tikki doesn't care for her civilian self, because she absolutely does. She knows that. And yet....

Marinette stares at her reflection in the mirror.

The girl before her looks every bit of spent. In the low lighting, she can she the observing glint of her blue eyes, the pallid complexion of her face, the slightly-dark crescent build-up under her eyes. Her hair's tickling her shoulders, it desperately needs to be washed. The figure stares back at her, and all she can hear is her Maman's voice; the way it was softly pitched, the sympathetic undercurrent as she spoke.  _You can't just expect it all to go away just like_   _that_. The knowledge of the things still locked away in her drawer crept up once again, and she made a face. Her mirror image duplicated it.

She's not feeling for anymore deep talks. "Yeah, you're right Tikki. I'll go see Master Fu sometime after school." Because everyone's right, and truthfully, she owes it to herself.

The kwami's smile is sunny, and Marinette feels even worse for her earlier thoughts.  _How dare you even think that,_ her brain supplies. What kind of chosen was she, to be acting like such a child? There was the bigger picture, and she needed to understand that. "Don't worry, Marinette. I know that it's been a lot since it happened, and you haven't had a chance to really tackle it head on." She flitters up to her cheek, "But once you talk about this, you'll be able to become a better you! More than you already are, of course."

She cups a hand around her little friend, the disbelieving thoughts from earlier quite near diminished. The kwami truly meant well. "Thanks, Tikki." She gives her smile, "But for now though, I think I need to go to sleep. It's been a _long_  — "

 _Something_ landed overhead.

Marinette blinked, her eyes trailing upwards and her shoulders unconsciously drooping. She clearly hadn't _imagined_ it, if Tikki's immediate dash behind her bottle of lotion was anything to go by. But it was late — too late for any visitors right now, and she couldn't think of any reason that someone would be dropping by. It had been a long time since she last had a visitor too — 

A knock punctuated her thoughts, insistent.

Sending a confused look towards her kwami, she climbed up her stairs to go check, mind mourning at the slight setback to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 _The Parisian rooftops · 21st arrondissement, Paris, France._  
_8:35 pm._

Paris was absolutely breathtaking in its night life, with its exquisite skyscrapers and other buildings clothed with the warm glow of streetlights and their personal gleam. On other nights, one of those nights where he'd want to escape the suffocating walls of his towering home, he'd try to enjoy it. He'd sit on some rooftop where he could see a panoramic view of Paris in all its beauty. He'd immerse himself in the music that was strong enough to flow through the wind from the cabarets like  _Moulin Rouge_ , or  _Chez Moune_. 

But tonight, he was on a mission. A mission that had to deal with a certain classmate of his.

Chat Noir smoothly leaped and glided across rooftops, blending within the shadows, the silver moonlight being the only thing betraying his silhouette to any mere civilian. He eventually arrived at his destination, landing on Marinette's balcony. He traces the intricate design of the railing, and touches a rose from one of her plants before glancing down through her glass hatch, the yellow-glow of her bedroom light emitting from it.

She isn't in bed, but her voice slightly carries past the glass — he can't discern what she's saying, but he knows its her voice. So, he knocks loud enough to get her attention, and waits until her head pops in on the other side of the glass. Her blue eyes are surprised as she says, loud enough for him to make out, "Chat Noir?"

He gives a small wave in response, and shuffles back as she opens the hatch.

"Good evening, Princess," he said, standing up to attempt a bow. She stands up in her bed and is half-hanging out of the hatch, looking up at him with slight confusion. She seems to have been getting ready for bed.

"What are you doing here?" Her folded arms rest on the ground. "Is there an akuma?" He watched as dread crept into her features for some reason, and he paused. He hadn't seen his classmate for a week, and she seemed troubling _exhausted_ over something, something akin to how Mme. Bustier was earlier, probably similar to how he felt earlier. 

"Actually, I'm here to see you." He sends her a charming smile to calm her somewhat. "I was in the neighbourhood and thought that I'd check up on my favourite civilian."

Instead of a playful comment in response however, she only looks at him. "Check up on me?" She raises a tired eyebrow.

"Well yeah," His hand flew to the back of his neck. "I...came across one of the students from Collège Françoise Dupont. They _really_ wanted to me to check up on you. Said that you weren't going to school there anymore for some reason? Everyone's really concerned." _He_ was concerned.

He blinks as she closes her eyes for a moment, longer than a few seconds. She exhaled heavily, and he's even more concerned. _Alarmed_. He clears his throat. "Marinette?"

"Look Chat Noir, thank you for checking up on me." Her eyes are weary, but at their core, there's a flicker of _something_ that he can't discern. "But I highly doubt everyone's _so_ concerned."

Chat Noir stares at her. "You don't believe me?"

"Absolutely not." She wearily glances past him. "Did you knock down any of my plants vaulting in here?" Her face shows that she's expecting her flower pot of roses to be on the ground, dirt beside it.

"No, they're fine." But he gets back on track. "Princess, I don't understand. Why don't you think that everyone's concerned? They're all your friends, aren't they?"

And instead of the affirmation that he was expecting, Marinette simply draws her eyes downwards, voice _small_. "No, they're not."

Adrien could only _stare_ for another moment — stare, and remember the constant excuses that had been given for all the times she hadn't been around: _Can't go out for lunch because she always had to help her parents. Can't catch a movie with us, because she wasn't feeling too well. She's stuck in the Art Room on this big project._ _She's doing more assignments to make up for her missed classes._ Remember how detached she generally was the last time he'd seen her, how angry she was.

How long did she feel this way? Because something in her tone makes him believe that she truly _disliked_ her classmates. Her, Marinette, the coined _'Everyday Ladybug'_ of Mme. Bustier's class, one of the nicest people he's ever met, saying that they _weren't_ her friends?

That...that actually unsettled him more than he'd be able to admit right now.

Because he's known Marinette to be one who'd do _anything_ to help their classmates. So for her to believe that they _wouldn't_ be concerned for her, to say that they all _weren't her friends_......?

Chat Noir swallows thickly, holding back the sudden onslaught of questions he wanted to ask. "What happened?" he rasped, bringing himself into a sit. "Why do you say that they aren't? Because I...uh — it really seems like they were shocked by your absence."

She exhales heavily, sounding so tired and so exasperated and so.... _infuriated_. He straightens. He's never actually seen her angry before. Panicked, yes. Awkward and in a nervous frenzy, absolutely. Frustrated? _Oh yeah_ , that had been showing up recently whenever Lila was around. But never _angry_. "It's funny that they're worried now. They didn't seem to care enough before. _Every single time_ I was the bad guy."

She chuckles, but it's so jaded and bitter that he recoils slightly. "Marinette, what _happened_? You can tell me I'm — " he cuts himself off, because he was sounding a bit _too_ desperate for information, he was letting Adrien seep into Chat Noir and he couldn't have _that_ happen. "I'm all ears." He gave a her a too wide smile, akin to the ones he gave during his photo-shoots.

Marinette returns it, gratitude in those blue eyes but it's subdued. _No no no no no._ "Thank you. But I've had my fill of emotional talks for the night, and I don't feel like talking about any of that.... _that_ right now. Maybe someday I'll tell you." She yawns, "What I will tell you is that it was a lot. And now, I've changed schools."

".....I'm sorry to hear that." And her eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion, tilting her head, but he continued. "I had no idea that you hated it there." He truly didn't. Sure, he didn't engage with her much, but now he wished he had.

"It wasn't that I hated it. Things only started getting horrible a while ago, and I just...." she exhaled. "I just needed to leave. It was better for me."

 _Things only started getting horrible a while ago._ So something prompted her to leave.  _It was better for me._ What had happened that she truly thought that it would be best if she left? He could sense that she didn't want to stay on the topic anymore, so he cleared his throat. "Would you like company for the rest of the night? This alley cat has nowhere to be, its c'est vendredi soir, after all." Because he didn't think that it was best to leave after that information.

But she waved him off. _Oh no._ "Thanks, but I'm going to have to decline. I have a well-overdue appointment with my bed that was supposed to be claimed since this morning, and I need to cash that in."

Adrien worried at his lip for a minute, peering down at her, before reluctantly acquiescing. 

"Very well then." He stands up, giving a poor attempt at a bow. "Bonne nuit, princess. I...." He forces his next words out. "I wish you all the best at your new school."

She sends him a tired smile, and he feels sick. "I hope for the best too. Au revoir, Chat Noir."

He gives one last wave as she goes back down, and hesitates before jumping off her balcony. 

And in his leaps back across the rooftops, he faintly registered that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I refuse to let Chat Noir immediately know everything because I don't know about you, but if I experienced that nonsense at the hands of Lila, I wasn't just going to tell _everything_ to the cat boy I occasionally came across in my civilian form four times a year, even if I'm secretly his partner. Let him attempt to figure it out himself.
> 
> Every time a full day ends in this story (as some chapters are fragmented), I feel like it should end on an ending song just like the show does so I keep thinking of the song _[Lucky Ending](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnjwEZk-DNQ)  _ by Vickeblanka, which is the 1st ED for the anime _Fruits Basket_. So there's that.
> 
> There's much more kudos and comments since I was last on here, so thanks for that! I haven't forgotten about this story I promise. University is just a hell of a time.  
> Thank you so much for reading and I'll see you in the next one!


	9. neuf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It'll be a challenge, she knows, but it's a step in the right direction for herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, laying in bed: :(  
> [these ](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/lady-bug/images/c/c7/Transformation_6.png/revision/latest?cb=20160214053702) [concept ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/827cbfdf37d2e1362b8f69a7438b964c/tumblr_inline_pkha53nvdR1rfman3_1280.png) [art ](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/lady-bug/images/f/fb/Marinette_render_model.png/revision/latest?cb=20150110033920) [pictures ](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/lady-bug/images/d/db/Marinette_old_3D_CGI.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20150108212011) of Marinette with completely black hair and grey eyes: exist  
> me, laying in bed: :)
> 
> (did i ever say that the Marinette in this fic looks like these concept arts? because i've decided that she looks exactly like these concept arts, just minus the red tips. and with blue eyes i guess, even though genetically, that shouldn't even be _possible_.)

_Saturday  June 4 th — _ _Le magasin de massage de Wang Fu_ _(_   _Wang Fu 's Massage Shop), Paris, France._  
_5:05 pm._

The amount of tension that seemed to rush out of Marinette after recounting everything for the umpteenth time was....well, frankly  _surprising_. She still felt that familiar  _draining_  weight that always accompanied every recollection, and tears had been shed, of course. But there's was also an unexplainable calm that flittered through her that was completely unexpected, given that — well, given  _everything._

It wasn't that she hadn't been relieved when she finally told her parents, or when Mme. Bustier had promised her that she'd deal with it (because _now_ , people other than herself knew the depth of it all), but it hadn't come this  _quickly_. Marinette suspected that it was due to speaking with someone who truly knew the other part of her life, someone who knew the full weight of this and how it could affect  _her_ — not just Marinette. Or it could've had to do with the mollifying effect of the room — it  _was_  a business centered on meditation and reflection.

Regardless, it resulted in her being slightly unsettled.  She should be much more concerned, because  _now_ , he knew that she was susceptible. The Great Guardian entrusted her with the safety of Paris, yet how could she do that if she could very well fall under Hawkmoth's ministrations? What kind of Ladybug was she? 

Marinette gave it a few more minutes — she would be much more upset about that little tidbit when the placidity wore off. Gathering the strength to go in-depth about it was tough, having someone who wasn't her parents view her ugly tears _terrifying_ , but all that combined with the judgement of the one who gave her her powers in the first place? Who most likely was reconsidering his choice because she wasn't good enough? _Ugh_.

She observed Wayzz and Tikki, perched on the small table top. The knowledge that Nino hadn't done much to defend her had saddened him, even though Marinette noted that he didn't know the depth of Lila's deviousness. Even still — he'd known her longer than Alya and Adrien, along with some of her other classmates. She would have thought that _that_ would've counted for something. Speaking of Alya — Trixx wasn't present for the conversation, most likely resting. Fair enough, she supposed. It would be hard for the kwami to hear.

Tikki's been witness to this story for three times now — unbeknownst to the people in the previous two times — but it hadn't failed to sadden her. She left his side to flutter up to Marinette's cheek, burrowing against it and — despite how small the kwami was, the embrace was as comforting as any hug she would've gotten from her parents. She could _hear Tikki_ , hear her say _I wish it was different. It wish that it didn't all have to come to this._

Marinette wished for the same. That it didn't have to result in her leaving.

She released a heavy breath, and took up her cup of tea, offered by him when she sat down. Her eyes drifted to appraise him — he took one slow taste from his cup, and she could tell that he was preparing to speak. Oh — _there's_ the familiar discomfort in the pit of her stomach, the placidity was wearing off. He had yet to say anything in response to it all, letting her get through her story from begging to end without interruption. And now, he may very well say that he thought that she could've handled it. Feeling for her and her circumstances, of course,  _but_ she was Ladybug after all.

The bluenette released a heavy breath, and took a sip, immediately shuddering at the lukewarm taste. She hadn't been drinking it much during her recounting, alternating between using its warmth as a relaxer and resting it on the table when it became too much. Her eyes drag over the painted inscriptions around the room:  安谧 _Tranquil_.  反射  _Reflection_. 洞察力  _Insight_. 理解  _Understanding_. 禅  _Zen_. 

"Marinette."

The low call made her wince, Tikki burrowing more in response, and she glanced back over. Master Wang Fu appraised her from where he sat, brown eyes overbright with slight sadness. He folds his hands in his lap and sighs, taking another moment. 

"That was a lot that you had to endure on your own." He murmured, Wayzz not being able to hide their flinch. "The fact that you so narrowly escaped akumatization numerous times...."

It didn't  _sound_  as if he was going to speak her about her lack of resistance, but she waited. Because he wasn't finished.

"It just goes to show how strong you are, even through that strenuous of a circumstance."

 _Oh_. Her eyebrows flicked up, pausing. 

He arched an eyebrow, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Did you think that I would have reprimanded you for not being able to withstand Hawkmoth completely? Even though you have _refused_ him _more than once_?"

Marinette shook her head minutely, and he exhaled heavily. He placed his cup down, his calloused hands entangling together on the table top. "Marinette, I may have appointed you to be Ladybug, but I did this knowing full well that you are only _human_. I — " She blinked in awe at seeing that eyes were pained, he's never been _this_ open with her. "I made you Ladybug knowing that you are simply a teenager, a teenager who _will_ face other emotional issues that can conflict with her identity. You blaming yourself for almost being akumatized.....I apologize if I have made you feel as if you weren't good enough."

She stammered, "No, no. _You've_ never made me feel like that. It's just..."

"It still happens." Master Fu smiled sadly, yet distress still hovered in the edges of his face. "Paris certainly holds the two of you on a pedestal. Still, I apologize."

Marinette nodded, not knowing how to respond to that. The citizens of Paris did celebrate their existence to a huge extent. There definitely was a lot of attention towards them — and while the media sung nothing but praises of them both, there was still a bit of wonder in their reports, because they seemed to be magical beings. Magical, superhuman beings who seemed to be able to fix _everything_ with a Miraculous cure. She could never get away from her superhero persona _either_ , because _Marinette_ was held up to the very same standard, even if her old classmates hadn't realized it: expected to _never_ reach the boundaries of upset, expected to be able to do _everything_ because she so thoughtful and kind and willing to help everyone in need (she's the _"Everyday Ladybug"_ , after all....)

She decided to focus on something else.

Steeling herself, she began. "Master, I still feel....angry about it all. I don't think about it much, but whenever I do, it's never good for me. Just yesterday, I had someone attempt to try to see me and I  — " She swallowed, she's cried enough for one day. "I'm still hurt by what she did. By what they _all_ did. And, I just....I just want to put it all behind me."

He frowned, "Putting it behind you shouldn't mean ignoring it, Marinette."

"I'm not trying to.....it just..." _it just happened?_ Honestly, yes. It truly hadn't been intentional; she had to fully immerse herself in the process of choosing a new school environment, which was a tedious one. And with it all happening in the span of a few _days_....it really had just _happened_. "I need you to help me figure it all out. My mother and Tikki suggested you, and they're right. I don't want it to hold me down anymore."

Master Fu hummed, taking a sip from his cup. "Those incidents hold power over you, restrict you from doing things as you would have before. Breaking them down, bit by bit, will transform you into a better person. You can overcome it, and you will be stronger than you already are." Tikki nodded in violent agreement, and her lips tilted upwards slightly.

He smiled, voice gentle. "For you, Marinette? I will absolutely help you do so."

Pure _relief_ overcome her then. Part of her — a part that sounded a little like her Maman, all soothing words and incredible ability to talk her through all upsetting matters until they had become a mere whisper — murmured that _it's gonna let up soon enough, qiān jīn. you're going to become better after it all_. "Thank you, Master. I really appreciate this." She blinked fiercely at the burning in her eyes, no more crying.

"Think nothing of it." He placed his cup on the tray that they were brought on, and she glanced down at hers. It was still half-full, and she felt slightly guilty for not finishing it. Master Fu gestured his hand for it, and she sheepishly glanced up at him, handing it over. He shook his head, placing it with the other. 

"When would you like to have your sessions? I'll structure my appointments accordingly."

Marinette — 

Marinette hadn't thought that much ahead. Master Fu must've realized this as well, because he immediately followed up with, "Would you like to have it after your classes? Or, would the weekends be better for you?"

She hummed, "Maybe....Wednesday? My classes finish around three-thirty, so....would four be okay?"

He nodded, "We start from this Wednesday." And Marinette feels lighter at that, now that it's set in stone. "However, I don't want to just bring you into it." At her questioning gaze, he continued. "With beginning a new chapter, you'll have to prepare yourself. I think you should know of some of the things you will ultimately have to do after each session beforehand. As a mental catalogue, so to say. Because based on your recount, you may not have time to do these things. Additionally, there are a few things you should do to help relieve anxiety or agitation, which you can start all now. They may be simple, but they do help." 

Marinette rummages through her small side-bag for her small notepad and a pen, taking his suggestions attentively. Most are things that seems to fall in line with the essence of a meditation session. Her eyes widened fractionally as he notes off one particular job — something that she's been putting off ever since she left Dupont. Tikki glances at her notably, remembering the same. She exhales, going back to listen with rapt attention. 

Soon after, the sky starts to pitch dark, and she gathers her things to leave.

Master Fu follows behind her, "One last question, Marinette. I know that you may not want to think about it, but are you withdrawing from your decision of Rena Rouge and Carapace?"

She wrung her hands, bluebell eyes showing her range of thoughts. Bestowing that amount of power and responsibility on the two was something that she truly thought was for the best. Not only were they capable, and had the spirit, but she knew that it wouldn't be an issue working with either of them. But _now_?  _—_ Marinette could barely handle almost unknowingly _running_ _into_ Alya. _Working_ with her after it all? And wherever she went, Nino would be behind her — could she handle that?

"I — I can't trust either of them right now." Her words are soft, "It won't do good for Paris if we're in battle and can't work together. So, I think — I think it's for the best." Her eyes flickered up.

He's already nodding, "Understood."

 

* * *

 

_The Dupain-Cheng home · 12 Rue Gotlib, 21st arrondissement, Paris, France._  
_6:20 pm._

"Marinette! Wǎncān zài shí fēnzhōng nèi!" _Dinner's in ten minutes!_

"Zhī dào le, Maman!" _Got it, Maman!_ She gives a small smile at her pronunciation, toeing her shoes off at the door. She's been trying her best with learning Mandarin more after her uncle's visit, and with her mother's help, but it's a work in progress. She's got basic pleasantries, phrases and calls down at least.

She flicks on the light in her room, and discarding her bag onto her bed. She needs a bath right now — the past few weeks up to this point have been something, and after today, the warm water will absolutely be welcomed. She stretches, walking down to her bathroom to prepare the tub with warm water. She eyes her three-tiered shower caddy mounted on the wall, palming the bottle of lavender shower gel. _Yep, I deserve this luxurious bubble bath._

She dumps some into the tub. _A lot_ of it.

When it's done, she changes and sinks into the water with a sigh. She shuts her eyes, thoughts going over the list Master Fu mentioned. Some of them were small, general tips she could use for stress and anger management, and they weren't meant to be the primary tools to help her for her sessions: 

 _Utiliser des techniques de respiration._ Use breathing Techniques.  
Rhythmic breathing is a core part of mediation, she was told, and many have used it to control their responses, or calm their anxiety. He recommended the 4-7-8 technique but she'd have to do more research. 

 _Relâchez l'anxiété ou la colère._  Release the anxiety or anger.  
Master Fu noted that it should be anything physical that doesn't include expressing anger. She could probably go out for a walk, or swing around Paris whenever it got too much. 

 _Pensez à la situation à travers._ Think the situation through.  
He noted that some situations wouldn't matter to her by the following week. Sometimes she shouldn't let anyone aggravate her. And sometimes it's unavoidable, most of the time you'll never be able to consciously think through your anger. But if she can walk away from it, she should. She hums, sinking down enough to get her hair wet. He also noted that it would help to develop a mantra to use in critical situations. "Just make sure it’s one that you find helpful." She'd have to think about one.

Être organisé en tâches quotidiennes.  _Be Organized in Daily Tasks._  
She was never organized a day in her life, especially with school-work. This — this was going to be a tough one.

 _Réorganisez votre environnement. Reorganize your environment._  
She _had_ been planning to tidy around her bedroom a bit. And a de-cluttered bedroom was said to be better for it's occupant. 

 _Méditer à l'occasion. Meditate occasionally._  
Maybe she could get her mother involved? Make it a little thing between them? To think about later.

The others, more tailored to do after her sessions, were much more daunting:

 _Jeter des souvenirs liés à ce qui vous retient_. Throw memories related to what holds you back.  
Now, he explained that she wouldn't _just_ throw everything out. She had to tackle it first in her sessions, then start bit by bit until _visual_ traces of it were gone. This included pictures, phone contacts, anything of the sort. And Marinette thinks of the pictures she quickly picked off her walls, thrown out of sight in a drawer. She remembers her old phone, still with unanswered messages from her old classmates. She exhales, Master Fu said that he would instruct her more on that, as each session would be different. But....

She huffs, dunking her head under for a few moments before coming back up. No more of that until Wednesday.

 _Changer votre environnement._ Change your environment.   
This wasn't simply cleaning up her bedroom. This was a complete house cleaning — rearranging furniture, painting the walls of the house, anything along those lines. She would have to ask her parents if they were willing to do it, they usually cleaned the entire house for Christmas, and for the Chinese New Year, maybe they could do it for this?

It's a great deal to think about, in the short space of time she has until dinner. But, as she knows, all her problems don't have to be answered _immediately_. She gets out of the bathtub, pulling the plug to drain it, and watching the water go down. She steps back to her bedroom, heeding the call of her father saying that dinner is ready. She dries her skin, puts on her pajamas, and glances at herself in the mirror. 

Again, it's a great deal to think about, in the short space of time before dinner. But, the girl reflected back at her _looks_ more at ease. She's not as pale anymore, with her damp hair tickling her shoulders. Her issues have been addressed, and she's _going_ to fix it, with some much needed help. Marinette passes a hand through her hair.

It'll be a challenge, she knows, but it's a step in the right direction for herself. 

She grabs another towel, and attempts to dry her hair some more, walking downstairs to join her parents. Maybe she could tell them about the tips Master Fu recommended. 

 

* * *

 

 _Monday, June 6 th _  
_La Salle du Personnel ·_   _Collège Françoise Dupont, Paris, France._  
_10:35 am._

Caline clocks in at exactly ten thirty-five in the morning — returning the dreary _sallut_ s and _bonjour_ s from her respective employees, dropping her handbag and folders at her desk — and  _immediately_ trudges towards the staff kitchen. The pot of coffee is still hot _dieu merci_ — she can tell by the hand she places an inch from it — and she pours herself some in one of the daily supplied styrofoam cups. She would use her mug up in the cabinet, but she doesn't care to attempt to stretch in order to reach it.

Her class isn't until eleven, so she isn't the least bit hurried. Her weekend was spent trying to contact Mlle. Rossi's mother yet again, and every attempt yielded next to nothing in results. Caline ran a hand through her hair in exasperation. _Why_ was it so hard to get into contact with the woman? That theory about Mlle. Rossi ensuring that her mother had no idea of what exactly was going on with her daughter's education — or more specifically, possibly misleading the woman and ensuring that she had no contact with the school to make sure — was starting to ring more and more true. Her mother's testimony was crucial to this report, as it would most likely corroborate what she already suspected: the forged excuses, Mlle. Rossi's unaccounted for absences......talking with her mother would stop the girl in her tracks.

Unfortunately, _for now anyway_ , she was at a standstill.

She exhales, maneuvering past the dining table to walk towards her desk. And she would've gotten there too, had it not been for the sudden, _jarring_ appearance of Mendeleiev. The teacher fumbled with her feet to not move forward, instead reeling backwards to avoid an impact. Mendeleiev does the same, a noise escaping her. The near collision causes her coffee to slip out of her fingers, and empty onto the floor. Caline gazes mournfully down at the spillage, "Oh." Other teachers stared in sympathy from their seats, before going back to their papers and laptops. She inwardly groans, _at least it wasn't my good mug_.

Mendeleiev also stares down at the mess, a visible wince forming on her features. "Sorry, Caline. Let me make you another one."

She waves an exhausted hand, slowly moving to get some paper towels. "It's fine. I can — "

Caline cuts herself off as she is shoved — carefully and softly so, towards the other direction. She blinks up at the woman, and Mendeleiev simply sends her a flat stare, "None of that. I'll make you another one." She then moves into the kitchen, calling out behind her, "Besides — you have to fill me in on your progress. You look like hell." 

She hesitates only a moment, staring after the purple-haired woman before exhaling and murmuring to herself, "I feel like it." She cleans up the mess quickly, discarding the towels in the bin before striding over to her desk.

The circumstances surrounding Marinette's transfer was only known to three select people: herself, Monsieur Damocles, and Mendeleiev. Telling the woman hadn't been intentional — she absolutely did not want this to spread until she had more concrete evidence, she had only found out due to stumbling upon her the evening Marinette came to her. Had anyone told Caline a few years ago that Mendeleiev had an ounce of comfort in her, she would've a. laughed internally because she still needed to maintain her politeness, and b. tell them that them must've been imaging someone else, because the very idea was _inconceivable_. 

And yet, there they were. The woman had taken one look at her — gaze distant and distracted — and immediately ushered her to the staff room. They had been the only ones left at the school, so the staff room was vacant of any other eavesdroppers. Caline was sat down at the dining table, and she stiffened as Mendeleiev's piercing gaze swept over her — she was noteworthy for it, her scrutinized blue eyes never failed to make someone feel as if they were under assessment — as if she were looking for something in her. And whatever she saw made her nod, and reach for the box of Chamomile Tea hidden behind other boxes. 

She had brought over two cups, handed one to her and just drank in silence. But the signal was there: _talk if you want._

And well, Caline was upset. And Mendeleiev was offering. So, divulged. 

She busied herself with focusing on her beverage, eyes mostly down on the table as she spoke. Mendeleiev was silent as she listened, and in the few moments she did look up, Caline could see her solemnly thinking. Most likely thinking over the last time she had seen Marinette within her class. Thinking over if there was _any_ indication of it. And when she was done, Caline watched as the woman moved to give her hand a gentle squeeze — absently noting that she must look quite pitiful to get _this_ response from Mendeleiev — and she couldn’t help the immense, strange feeling of _consolation_ that swept over her then.

Mendeleiev's voice was pitched soft, a feat in it of itself, "It's not your fault."

Caline gave a small smile, despite the situation. "You can understand if I find it hard to believe you."

But the other woman shook her head, "It is _not your fault,_ Caline,” she stressed. "There were other variables that caused this to happen."

"Variables that I could have _realized_. They were obvious — "

"They're only obvious _now_ because you know about it." Mendeleiev said. "Hell, now that I think about it, there were multiple things that should've clued me in about Dupain-Cheng."

Caline frowned, "You only see her and the others for one class. I see them more often." She closed her eyes, "I've been neglecting my duties as a teacher. I should have been _much_ more hands on. If I was, it would have never come to this. She wouldn't have had to consider _leaving_."

There was silence for a moment, and then Mendeleiev penetrated it with a, "Maybe so."

She brought her eyes up with a jerk, and the woman continued, "Maybe you have been neglecting your duties as a teacher. Maybe I have as well. And _maybe_ if we had both known about this earlier, _maybe_ she wouldn't consider transferring." She took a swig of her tea, before casting those analytical eyes on her yet again. "But unfortunately, it's come to that. And now that you know, now that Dupain-Cheng has told you everything, _what_ are you going to do about it?" 

Caline wasn't worried about secrecy at the time. Mendeleiev wasn't one to disclose her personal affairs with the other staff members, and the woman had  reassured her that she wouldn't let anyone else hear this. She just wanted updates on the situation and offered to help in anyway she could.

True to her word, Mendeleiev brought a fresh cup of coffee to her desk, taking a seat behind her own, opposite to her. They were at the far corner of the room. If anyone wanted to listen, they would end up being extremely obvious. Nevertheless, Mendeleiev pitches her voice low, gaze flickering around the room as she questions, "Any luck contacting Rossi's mother?"

Caline inhaled the wonderful aroma, yet she couldn't help the frown, "Not one bit."

Her words were scathing, "I understand that she's a diplomat, but not being available when it concerns your daughter's education?"

She drums her fingers on her desk, hesitating before divulging her suspicions. "That's the thing — I don't...I don't think that she's _intentionally_ being this difficult to contact." She sipped on her coffee, savoring the warmth as she waited for her to interpret her insinuation. 

" _Intentionally_ being — " Mendeleiev paused for a moment, before realization glinted in her blue eyes, and she stared down her co-worker in understanding. "You think Rossi's blocking it somehow." 

"I've had this suspicion for a while now," She nodded grimly, her voice soft. "I truly don't think her mother knows _anything_ concerning the school, or her daughter. Like you said, she's a _diplomat_. There's only so much attention she can give." She reflexively glances around the room again, ensuring that there are no listeners.

"If Rossi's scheming really is _that_ elaborate," Her eyebrows flicked up. "If we're working on the basis that she has a _significant_ amount of freedom, resulting in her mother doesn't know much, and she's actively keeping it that way....she's _constantly absent_." Mendeleiev's eyes narrow, "She gave signed parental notes, but if she's not constantly being monitored, what if they were — "

"Forged?" Caline finished, eyeing her significantly over her cup. The elder gazed back, grave. "Exactly what I was thinking. But, it's only conjecture, I need something _concrete_. Which means, I need her mother to confirm or deny. But going off from what Marinette's said of Mademoiselle Rossi — "

"We can't let Rossi get an inkling of us being onto her." Mendeleiev breathed, sinking back into her chair. “ _Doux Jésus_ , the levels of this.” She rubs her temples.

"Given how convincing and manipulative she is," she muttered, "Mademoiselle Rossi could very well spin some sort of lie to us. We'd know better, of course. But for a mother who has no idea what's going on, you can see how that'd be problematic."

Mendeleiev fell silent, and Caline could practically see the wheels turning in her colleague's mind as she went over the information so far. She couldn't blame her, Mlle. Rossi was a concerning case. And for the entirety of last week, _she_ had been trying to wrap her head around it. She'd understand the dilemma she's currently facing, playing a tedious waiting game. And it had been a long moment before Mendeleiev spoke up again, "Do you know anything about her before she transferred here?"

Caline, weary as she was, still tried to follow along Mendeleiev's thinking. The _she_ was obviously Mlle. Rossi, and she knew that the woman wouldn't have asked the question if she didn't think that it was important. Still, her eyebrows furrow, she can't see what the woman is getting at. Mendeleiev took note, and elaborated;

"The way Rossi's going about this...it's _too_ meticulous and elaborate for someone who has never done this before. Being so able to so carefully lie, having such a hold on her classmates, driving a girl out and having her own friends turn on her." That last one was loathing, but she eyed her pointedly. "Her methods may have relied on a negligent administration, but what if she's accomplished this before?"

The question had shocked her still — still and silent. She...she hadn't even considered that. But Mendeleiev had a point — this was _well_ thought out (her methods of manipulation anyway, not her lies), and she knew Mlle. Rossi was calculating in how she interacted with people, how she assessed people. This entire ordeal _had_ to have been calculated. Mlle. Rossi _had_ to have done this before. And for the level of bullying that Marinette disclosed....she _must've_ had previous instances of being an instigator. 

"That's a possibility. _Mince!_ I hadn't even thought about that." Echoes of guilt and shame rose in her chest. _Something else you hadn't paid attention to, all this time you've been on it and that didn't stick out to you? You promised her you'd fix this_ — 

"We should have a look at her student file. Then again, it'll only given us her academic records. It won't tell us what she was like in her previous school life." The elder woman hummed, "But it _will_ give us her previous school. And from there, we can make some phone calls."

Caline exhaled, "I suppose I should get on that then." She'd need to get Mlle. Rossi's files from the Student Archive Room, and then —

"You _should_ get to class. It's almost time." Mendeleiev's words pulled her out of her thoughts. Caline blinks, finding her co-worker staring at her, observing. Mendeleiev just gestures to the clock behind her: it was _10: 50_. 

Caline frowns, "I'll have to — "

A sigh. " _Go_ ," she urged, taking her empty cup from her hands and getting up from her seat. "I'm giving you a ten minute leeway to _pull_ yourself together. Can't afford to have your students worrying." It was a grumble, with an air of nonchalance, but there was a note of pleading present and she faltered. As if to confirm it, Mendeleiev glanced back at her, eyes sending her a clear message. _Stop blaming yourself_.

As quick as it appeared, her demeanor shifted, and she leveled a stern glare at her. "I'll bring her personal file around l'après-midi so we can go through it. After school. Now go get ready, Bustier."

Caline blinked at her in shock — at the confirmation of them both working on this — before giving herself a brisk shake. Mendeleiev was _right_ : the wallowing on her part wasn't going to help anyone. And she'd concern her students if she kept it up. "Right." She sent a smile towards the woman, "Thanks."

She received an eye-roll in response, but the woman allowed a tilt of her lips, saying nothing more as she walked to the kitchen. 

Caline sits around for a moment before exhaling, gathering the books on top her desk. She had a subject to teach.

 

* * *

 

 _La Bibliothèque Étudiante Pierre Thomas·_ __École Louise Vallayer-Coster pour Les Arts, Paris, France._ _  
_11:05 am._

Marinette exhaled heavily, the breeze jostling her bangs slightly.

She knew that she'd meet people like this sooner or later, given the type of school that it was — she had just hoped that it would've fell in the ' _later_ ' category.

Today had started off so _well_ too.

After everything over the weekend, she's actually made an effort to be precise and organized with everything she wasn't before. Her homework's been completed (she needed to stay on top of things, this school was prestigious and she couldn't afford not to), she got a decent amount of sleep — for once, and she's actually woken up on time for school (can't repeat last Friday, and her before days at  _Dupont_ ). She's even eaten breakfast this morning,  _and_  had time to restart her skin-care routine. It's not much, one might think — but for her, it's gratifying. She _hoped_ she stayed this consistent. 

Travelling from the twenty-first arrondissement to where École Louise Vallayer-Coster pour Les Arts was — in the sixth arrondissement — in _that_ deluxe of a vehicle was pretty nice, if not incredibly unfamiliar for her. At least she didn't need to pay €7.50 every day anymore since she wasn't travelling by métro — she wouldn't have to spend anything, courtesy of the school. She would get used to it eventually.

She had just been minding her own business at her chosen desk — seated in  _La Bibliothèque Étudiante Pierre Thomas_ actually attempting to study, she's come so far — when two girls, who weren't in her class, sat down behind her. This in itself, wasn't unusual or even a problem. It was the library, after all. Students were going to sit wherever they pleased. What _was_ the problem, was that the girls seemed to have decided that _she_ was a great topic of conversation.  

" _That's_  Adrien's girlfriend? _Adrien Agreste_?" Her attempt at bringing her voice to a whisper was sad, honestly.

"Absolutely." The other confirmed, with her provincial accent. "Remember when  _Closer_  captured pictures of him and a girl around Paris? She's the one in the pictures."

She wasn't a stranger to rumors, or people talking about her when they thought she couldn't hear — she went through enough of that back at _Dupont_.  Marinette remembered that day of running around with him, hiding the model from his swarm of fans. There _had_ been a bit of a buzz around her after, the pictures had been trending on Twitter and had been part of stories in magazines. But then it died down, and she'd assumed that people had forgotten about that. _Apparently not_. A pang thrummed through her upon thinking of Adrien, but she pushed it down. 

"Hmm," one of them made a disbelieving noise. "I would've thought that he would date another model. Does anyone know more about her?"

"It's the _tabloids_ , chérie. Of course they would've done research on her." What in the actual — "She's the same age as him. And she's actually been in magazines for projects she's landed with Jagged Stone. She's even been in a music video with _Clara Nightingale_. However, she's just a baker's daughter."

She knew that _some_ of her information is public, due to the interviews she would've done. But she had no idea that people tried to uncover _more_ about her because of her being connected to Adrien. Marinette pursed her lips, but she didn’t respond _just_ yet. The way she commented on her being "just a baker's daughter", as if it was sad thing for her to be....

She clenched her book tighter, heat crawling up her cheeks despite the air conditioning. 

"A baker's daughter?" The other girl's voice was surprised, before just the tiniest bit of bitterness crept in. "She's probably with him because of his connections. She's designed some things, right? His father built a fashion _empire_. Anyone who gets in his good graces, and stays long enough with Adrien could possibly share his wealth _and_ his company."

"Right? He's probably with her because she's exotic looking."

Kwami and heaven _above_ , did it take all of her strength not to immediately turn the fuck around and ask them to _please elaborate_. She wasn't a stranger to people questioning "what" she was, and she definitely was _well_ acquainted to people calling her "exotic". It never failed to make her feel like she was just a mere object, and she _hated_ hearing it. Her maman had always said to never put up with it.

At the stares that were attempting to burn a hole at the back of her head, Marinette decided to turn around just then, pining the two girls with a frigid glare. They jumped, as if they _hadn't_ expected her to hear them (did they even _try_ to be quiet?), their eyes wide. She opened her mouth, fully preparing to make them _regret_ their words — 

"How very mature of you, Camille." Said with the  _very_  polite " _vous_ ". "Then again, I suppose you and Lisette have always had superiority complexes."  

Marinette blinked at the voice, turning her head to catch Félix, gaze focused on the two girls. She took in his disposition, the way his blue-gray eyes were sharp and _glacial_ , and even _she_ felt ice trickle down her spine. She eyed around them, catching the way the rest of the students near to them had halted their conversations, statue-still as they listened.

"Félix," the brunette one sputtered, all traces of haughtiness leaving her. "We were just — "

"You were just being _racist_ simply because you were jealous over something being reported by a disreputable news source, that had no legitimate backing. I know. I heard. And so did she." Félix raised a impertinent eyebrow. "For someone with a highly respectable business man for a father, who _prides_ himself on keeping in touch with the current climate, one would _think_ that you would know that being racist is frowned upon nowadays."  

The girl's neck grew red — Marinette feeling oh so satisfied at the sight, and he glowered at the blonde one, who immediately sat straight. 

"Speaking of things being frowned upon, classicist doesn't reflect well on you, Lisette." Félix shrugged, but his venomous words juxtaposed his air of impassivity. "I mean, _you_ of all people shouldn't act as if you were born into your riches. To look at anyone else as beneath you is _pretentious_ of you."

Well, _fuck_. That may not have been directed at her, but it surely felt like it. Marinette eyed the way the blonde — Lisette — shrunk in her seat, looking so pitiful at being chastised in such a public place.

"I'm sorry," she says to Félix, looking solely at him and she — 

She doesn't snap, because she refuses to lose her temper on these girls, but it's _quite_ close. 

" _Excuse_ me." Her voice drags all their attention onto her, and she stares them dead on, jaw set and head high. "Last time I checked, Félix wasn't the one who was insulted for simply being captured in photos with Adrien Agreste, essentially called a gold-digger who wants to inherit his father's company, and called a racist term. Keep that _exact_ same energy that you had earlier and give the apology to the _right_ person."

Lisette immediately complies, eyes wide in fear. "I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to speak badly of you."

Marinette narrows her eyes at other one — Camille, whose eyes were wide. Upon realizing that everyone's gaze was directed her way, she clears her throat. "I'm sorry, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng."

She doesn't seem sorry in the least, though she's clearly embarrassed, yet Marinette's not going to allow it just go by. "No, you're not. But I'll let it slide by since being called out in public must be  _humiliating_ for you."

Camille snarls, and she quickly gets up to leave. Lisette scrambles to follow her, trying her best to leave with an attempt at indifference. The atmosphere is silent in the wake of their departure, and it takes a few seconds before the other students go back to their conversations, though not without a few second looks. A few of her homeroom classmates send her concerned glances, and she gives a comforting smile. They go back to their activities, satisfied.

Félix sighs after a moment, eyeing her. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

"Thanks, but it wasn't as if you just stood to the side." Marinette sends a hesitant smile. "Thank _you_ for standing up for me."

"You would have had it handled without my interjection anyway." His voice is smooth, dismissive, and she suddenly felt the urge to check her personal bank balance. 

Marinette, in attempt of masking it as conventional politeness, questions, "Do you want to sit down? I may have been studying earlier but I don't mind if you sit." She's never been one for dragging silences, especially with people whom she isn't well-acquainted with.

He coolly glances towards the three vacant chairs for a moment, the arm Marinette's gestured towards the chairs starting to strain with how long it's been extended, until he finally answers, "Thank you." 

Félix strides past to the one opposite her, seats himself, and opens his side bag to take out a hardcover book. She gazes down at her own open books, and knew within herself that she wouldn't be able to get back into the groove of studying she had earlier. Not with someone else at the table. She grumbles, _so much for being consistent_. She awkwardly forces her eyes down regardless, resigning herself to a long and silent fifteen minutes. 

After a while, Marinette flickers her eyes up — his eyes are down in his book, seeming fully content on letting the silence continue. She wasn't going to force any conversation either — they could totally co-exist at this table until it was time for lunch. She observed him, aside for a few words last Friday, when the others were there, she and Félix hadn't had much interaction. He hadn't said much in conversation to her last time, only polite questions and comments. At least he was polite enough to make an attempt with her. He was definitely more conversational with Claude and the others. The verbal dressing-down a few minutes ago absolutely made him  _intimidating_ — she could form an opinion on him there, but if there's anything that she knows full well, first impressions aren't an indicator of one's true personality.

His eyes suddenly jump up from the book's pages to hers, and she straightens. "Is something wrong?"

" _No, no_!" Marinette hurriedly reassures. "I was just spacing out. Yep, that's what I did." He quirks one eyebrow at her slight rambling, and she winces — she could've been a _little_ more convincing. 

He marks the page with a reflective bookmark before closing it, and leans forward. "Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, may I ask you something?"

The question is quite reminiscent of the days when she was much younger and her mother called her downstairs with The Voice™ , ever foreboding and never failing to cause anxiety to pop up. His look of indifference wasn't helping her nerves at all either, and she manages, "Just Marinette is fine."

He tilts his head, "What happened earlier, is that something that usually happens? People assuming you're in a relationship with Adrien Agreste?" 

Marinette stares. She...wasn't expecting that question. But she inwardly groans, was this going to become an issue now in this school? Had she known that those pictures would make people that invested into her, she....well she wouldn't have been able to do  _anything_. The Parisian media, or rather, Celebrity journalists were  _powerhouses_. But it would've been nice to keep on top of something like this.

He takes her hesitance as reluctance, "You aren't obligated to tell me, I was simply curious." His aura however, seems more like he's cataloging her answers than simple curiosity. 

"No, it's fine." She says, very slowly. "Actually, that was the first time someone's said something like that." _In my hearing range anyway._ "Some tabloids caught us together while I was trying to hide him from the swarm of fans chasing him. They made their ways online, and made up theories about who I was, and it was in the eye of Paris for a bit. We aren't actually dating."

"Hm." Félix sighs. "So they truly _were_ attacking you for something fictitious.  I'm not surprised, many of the students are like that here."

Marinette inwardly scoffed. Again, she had held that possibility in the back of her mind — a school as prestigious and rich in history as this would contain a great deal of narrow-minded, uncompromising, and haughty students. They would have expectations of people who weren't as well off, she sighs. If only she didn't have to deal with it. _These Damn Rich People...._

She focused on Félix once more, finding him with raised eyebrows. There was silence for a few seconds, and Marinette shifted, uneasy. Had he asked her a question, and she missed because she retreated in her own thoughts? She needed to stop doing that.

Before she could muster the courage to question if that was the case, he elaborated, mostly likely sensing her confusion. "That's a bit contumelious, isn't it?" When that didn't clarify anything, he continued. " _I_ happen to be one of those _'damn rich people'_." His facial expression didn't so much as waver, daunting with his presence, but there was a flicker of _something_ in his eyes.

The sight of it made her pause, and for half a second she tried to  decipher it — until his words actually _sunk in_ , until she realizes _what she just said_ , and who she said it to.

"I mean!" Her voice was loud, causing him, and a few of the students nearby to jump. She brought down her volume significantly, but unfortunately the humiliation didn't waver. "Oh my god, I didn't — I didn't mean it like that. I — uh, I was just..." Oh Jesus, this boy probably had the ability to _ruin her_ and her family for generations to come. Her brain was attempting to find  _some_  sort of excuse that wouldn't make her sound as if she meant to insult him just then.

The universe had never been a kind mistress to her before, and seemed  _ever so content_ to draw this out — warning sirens sounded off when Félix only waited for her to explain herself, eyes narrowed and voice lenient. " _You were just —_? Pray tell, what did you mean?" Dread pooled in her stomach.

Whining in the back of her throat, she managed, "That came out wrong. I — I was talking about rich people who look down on others. Not  _you_.  _Definitely_  not you.  _Or_ — or Allegra, Allen and Claude. _Absolutely not_!" The possibility of him going back to tell the three about her poor choice of words, especially by the way he was staring at her, was  _quite_  high. And she couldn't have that. "They've been so helpful last week, and I'll really appreciated it. And you...well I haven't gotten to really know you." Just kill her. "Or...them either."  _Please_  kill her. "But — but you were a great help just now, and I, um, well — "

Gods, did she  _wish_  that a meteor, similar to the one that drove the dinosaurs to extinction, would come and deliver a swift death. It was obvious enough that Félix seemed wary of her, being a newcomer, and now she had to go and say  _that_. Maybe it would be best if she just packed up and left. Yep, pack up all her things, leave the library to get as  _far_  away from this situation as possible, and never show her face around them again. She could probably bury herself — she's already done it figuratively, why not literally too? 

She pathetically peered up at him, trying to gauge how much more attempts at an explanation she would have to do. However, unlike the inscrutable demeanor he had before, the glint in his eyes was much more prominent. He was leaning back in his chair now, the hint of a smile on his lips as he watched her. Marinette's mouth slams shut, because _what?_  .... _is he — amused by all this?_ She couldn't fathom that possibility. She couldn't connect it to the Félix she was speaking to before, and she _definitely_ couldn't connect it to the Félix that had shut down those girls but, _was it possible_   _—_

She cautiously spoke, "Were you..." His gunmetal-blue eyes shone with, what was now clear as day, amusement at her finally catching on. Something made its way through the mess of emotions that had surfaced in the last minute, and she faintly realized that is was raw  _disbelief_. Her brain was unwilling to completely relax, _this could very well be a ruse_ , and her mouth was still moving. "Were you joking?"

Félix shrugs his shoulders. "I might have been. Just a little, " he lowly commented. And now that she's discerned it, she catches the entertained note in his voice towards the situation. Towards her. 

Words fail to come to her immediately, "I — you  _—_ " He simply waited for her to gain her bearings, and Marinette huffed, knowing that her cheeks were red. "Just to be clear, I _really_ thought I offended you just now —"

"Had you said that to anyone else, you would have." He nonchalantly pointed out, and she narrowed her eyes. "You just so happen to be lucky that Allen often says the same."

"...you're _absolutely_ making fun of me right now, and let me just say that I don't appreciate it."

The smile — it was definitely a smile now — gained a wry edge to it, a far cry from the imposing figure from a few moments ago. He was still reserved in how he carried himself, absolutely, but she wouldn't have expected  _this._ Félix cleared his throat, "I apologize, I just wasn't expecting you to say that. Although you were right, I'm afraid classicism tends to emerge at times from the likes of people such as those two."

She exhaled, "I — I expected it, really. I just didn't appreciate the shots at my personal life and my work. Or that _last_ comment." She didn't need to elaborate on which comment she was referring to. "I worked hard on those projects, you know? It was a miracle that I even landed those jobs."

"Of course," he nodded. "Anyone would be insulted being dismissed like that." 

She attempted an agreeing nod, albeit weakly. The fluctuating emotions now left her a little out of sorts, and she didn't really know what to do in this situation. Félix seemed to notice, _of course he did_ , and he eyed the very expensive looking watch on his wrist, amused. 

"It's about time for déjeuner." He carefully picked up his book, and starting packing it away. "I imagine that you'll be sitting with the four of us?"

Marinette nodded, glancing down at her books. In her post-embarrassed fueled adrenaline, she feels hungry. "If you don't mind."

"We do not." He simply said, and stood to leave, bag on his shoulder. He glances back at her, still seated and packing away and questions, "Are you coming, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng? I hope you aren't _too_ perplexed."

She narrowed her eyes at his obvious meaning — _I hope I didn't leave you too perplexed_  — while he simply stares back, clearly having a little fun with this. Marinette stood up, adjusting her blazer before putting her bag on her back. Sending him a minute smile, she replies, "Just Marinette is fine, Monsieur...."

"Monsieur Graham de Vanily," he said, "Although, Just Félix is fine."

 

* * *

 

Although Marinette hadn't planned to tell Allegra or Claude about the incident in the library — they may have been her assigned student guides, but she didn't think that it warranted any attention to — they found out anyway. Some of her classmates who witnessed the entire thing relayed it to Allegra, who was positively incensed on her behalf.

"Don't worry, Marinette." Her violet eyes had been fiery, serious as she spoke. "We don't tolerate anything like that here, I'll make a report to Monsieur Moreau afterwards."

She blinked at the girl's disposition, before eventually, very slowly, saying, "Thank you, but it really isn't that big of a deal."

Allegra's expression shifted to incredulous just then — Marinette pausing because, _did she say something wrong?_ — and Allen immediately intervened. " _Allegra_ , Marinette simply means that she already tore 'em a new one and showed that she won't be tolerating anythin' like that anytime soon. And since it's already _been_ handled by both her and Félix, she doesn't think it warrants any more attention — _not_ that the situation isn't concerning enough to be reported."

The blonde simply stared at him for a moment, before picking up her fork to delicately eat her salad, not saying anymore. Marinette watched her warily for a moment — because one could still sense the agitation rolling off her — until Allen then fixed her with a stare. "Marinette, I get it because I would've said the exact same thing when I first got here — but it _is_ a big deal. _Especially_ in your first few weeks."

She furrowed her brows, "I'm not saying that I wasn't upset by what they said — "

"I know," he cut in. " But, as much as y' don't wanna care about it because hey — never waste time on people like that, let Allegra report it. She's done it before. This may be somethin' that goes on around here, bu' one interjection from someone with Allegra's background will make any outward appearance of it disappear. The school won't want a compliant like that, since they advertise student diversity. While some people say to just take the high road, I personally say that you don't always have to."

Marinette falters at those last words. But then Allen continued, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Plus, you 'ad Félix for a witness," he went back to his lunch. "They'll stop _regardless_."

Marinette blinks, "What do you mean 'regardless'?" If anyone noticed her little moment, they don't show it.

Claude snorted, " Fé's a _bit_ well-liked by many of the girls around here."

Oh. _That_ would explain the two's immediate stammering in the face of Félix's confrontation — she had just chalked it up to how threatening he was. She supposed she could see why: he had the height, looks and allure associated with a model. Said boy didn't even raise his head, chewing his food fully before he drawled, "I rather liked it better when we were focusing on trying to pacify Allegra. Can we stay there, please ?" Allegra narrowed her eyes at the mention, while he continued eating, not sparing the glare an answer.

Of course, Claude did not stay there. "Fé's just  _so_ mysterious, and cool and _charming_." His voice gained a syrup-sweet, fawning adoration with those words, eyes fluttering coquettishly. "How could you _not_ make heart eyes whenever he's around?"

"And _yet_ , we're still on it." Félix murmured. 

Allen shrugged, "Like I said — Félix witnessing and chastising them for it will make them stop. Not only would they be terrified of him being angry — "

" — but they also don't want to risk not getting in his good, _attractive_ graces." Claude finished, leaning down so he could whisper, with the vigour of a woman in the eighteen hundreds discussing an accomplished, wealthy man with her daughters. "Plus, what with his relations, any person would be inclined to meet his _fetching_ acquaintance."

The blond exhaled heavily, picking up his head. "Please be serious."

Marinette gave an entertained smile at the antics, "How Victorian era of you — Jane Austen would be proud of your eighteen hundreds-esque description."

The brunet grinned, "Well, some people here try to imitate eighteen hundreds-esque thinking. I thought it would be fitting."

"Mm-hmm," she hummed. "Stopping their cattiness only because it'll look bad to the attractive, rich boy _is_ fitting of those girls."

The two other boys erupted into snickers at her wording, and there was a smile breaking out on Allegra's lips. Félix stares at her for a moment, before he eventually settles on, an interested and entertained intonation in his words, "You're incredibly blunt, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng." 

It's apparent that he's referring to her little remark from before, that resulted from her usual absent-mindedness. She winces, "Not really. I just have a lack-of-filter sometimes." And they may not be friends, not yet, but that little stunt of his back at the library made her follow with, "And you seem to get a kick out of making people nervous, Monsieur Graham de Vanily."

Allegra paused in her eating, "Nervous?"

"Did he do the thing?" Allen grinned, "Did he make you think that you and your family would be ruined for generations to come?"

That — that was _incredibly_ specific. That exact thought must've shown up on her face, because Claude immediately snickered, "He _did!_ "

Allegra frowned towards the blond, voice somehow a mix of sophisticated, yet also absolutely disappointed. "Félix...."

Félix takes his time chewing before saying, "I have no idea what you're talking about." The tilt of his lips betrayed him, though. "I simply pointed out how your...what was it — _'lack-of-filter'_ — would make people misunderstand you. Especially within this school. It wouldn't have done you any good." 

"I was _this_ close to crying." His face falls, concern ticking in his features but she smiles to show that she wasn't being serious. "You would've made me cry in that library, Monsieur Graham de Vanily. I would've been like those two girls, and that's not good for me for the start of my school term." Allegra stared at the interaction, while the other two tried to hold back their giggles.

He rolled his eyes, "No one is as pretentious as those two." He blinks, "And just Félix is fine, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng."

"Of course, Monsieur Graham de Vanily."

Félix narrowed his eyes, before flinching when Claude slammed his hand on the table-top. He glowered, " _Must_ you be so jarring?"

"It keeps people on their toes, baby." The brunet sent a kiss his way, causing the blond to exhale exasperatedly. Claude grins towards her, " _Call him out_ , little lady! He did the exact same thing to Allen."

She gasped, "Oh, no!" 

"Oh, yes." Allen leaned forward, "Except I said something along the lines of how much he made me want to check my bank account, like most of the people at this school." Allegra smiled, and Claude snickered.

Marinette thinks back to the library. "Valid."

Félix gives a slight smile, "It _was_ pretty amusing."

"But even though I w's scared of him for a long time," Allen smiled at the memory. "I eventually realized that Fé's a big softy."

Félix rolled his eyes, before making eye-contact with a beaming Claude, and he frowned, "Claude, I swear to _god_ — "

"Oh, Fé's a _huge_ marshmallow." Claude grinned like a Cheshire cat. "A grumpy young man with a heart of gold — one can't deny that it adds to his attractiveness."

"Continue on, Claude. Just keep in mind that the knife is just a stretch away."

" _Ooh_ — threatening assault. _Very_ on-brand for you. Unfortunately, it wouldn't do good for your future profession. Plus, Madame Graham de Vanily wouldn't like that."

The blond's eyes darted to regard the utensil, and Allegra quickly intervened, raising a hand to hide her giggle, "Alright, you two. Don't embarrass Félix in front of Marinette — even if he is a _darling_."

"I will _leave_ this table."

Marinette relaxed where she sat, blue eyes appraising them all: the squabbling between a badgering Claude and a simmering Félix, Allegra interjecting with her low, but teasing comments, and Allen doing the same as her, only his gaze with filled with absolute fondness. She watched with amusement and — as Allen patted Félix on the head in a comforting, almost motherly gesture, a little _jealousy_. And she knew why, of course. They had she what she once did: the closeness between friends. And she _hated_ the slight bitterness, the growing melancholy that accompanied her flickering envy because — dieu, it wasn't _their_ fault that she decided to leave her old school. It wasn't _their_ fault that Lila existed and was so conniving, so _manipulative_ that she managed to turn her old classmates against her. Her _friends_ against her. Then again, Lila didn't really do much, did she? All she did was speak something concerning Marinette that _could_ have been perceived as bad — her classmates were the ones who came to the conclusion that she was so horrible all on their own.

She willed herself to calm down and stop thinking about this. She couldn't afford an akuma finding its way into this school — did this school even _get_ akumas? She can't remember coming _here_ to stop any in the past, only in the sixth arrondissement itself. Either way, she couldn't get akumatized. She needed to stop thinking about this. She just had to wait until Wednesday for her first session with Master Fu. 

She exhaled, and _jolted_ as she made eye-contact with Allen. A visibly concerned Allen.

"Are you okay, Marinette?" The other three silenced themselves, attention now on her.

She quickly waved her hands, "Yep!" She grimaced at the forced cheerfulness injected her tone. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just spacing out again." Hopefully, her words convinced them, and they would just leave it at that.

Félix's eyebrow ticked, "You seem to do that a lot." _Maybe not_. He winced slightly as a dainty elbow swiftly dug into his side, Allegra sending him an admonishing glance.

Claude's cerulean eyes appraised her for a small moment, Marinette immediately straightening in her seat. "We've been leaving you out of the conversation, huh?" He frowned, voice apologetic and she relaxed — she didn't know why she was even unnerved for a split second. "Sorry about that, little lady. You can make fun of Fé with us." 

Félix gave him a flat stare, and she grinned. "That's okay. I do have a question though."

"Lay it on us." Allen smiled, inviting and Marinette exhaled.

"I'm...I'm not asking this to be rude because — well this isn't just something you just _ask_. But, does the school have any issues with akumas?"

Their expressions grew clouded, possibly recounting any past akumatizations or even just the existence of Hawkmoth in their every-day Paris reality. She immediately regrets bringing it up. Allegra frowned, eyes focused on her painted nails. "We do. Well, not _directly_. We've had some of our students become akumatized, some people who I know directly. But, it never happens within the school itself. Or, well, the destruction never happens within the school itself."

She _feels_ the confusion the shows up on her face, and Claude nods. "It's true. For some reason, all akumatized victims who get targeted in here tend to take their destruction _away_ from the school. I mean, _outside_. It's weird."

Félix hummed, "Most akumatized students from here are targeted on weekends though. Or after school hours."

"You'd think with the level of nasty and small-mindedness most people have here, they'd have more outbursts that would prompt akumatizations." Allen shrugged, "Apparently not."

Marinette frowned, that _was_ weird. "Sorry about asking. It's just that my old school had _a lot_ of akumas."

Allegra gave a small smile, "It's okay. You were genuinely curious, and had a right to know."

"What Beaumont said," Claude added. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

The conversation went elsewhere, Marinette included, and the girl felt herself being more at ease.

 

* * *

 

 _La Salle du Personnel ·_   _Collège Françoise Dupont, Paris, France._  
_4:05 pm._

The school day passes and by the afternoon — as promised — Mendeleiev brings Mlle. Rossi's personal student file for the two to go over. 

Concerning the Confidentiality of student records, there are limitations as to just who is allowed to view them. In the case of Collège Faculty, counselors and administrative officers, they are allowed to access and view specific student records on the basis that they have a “legitimate educational interest” or requirement. If faculty, counselors and administrative officers have a "legitimate educational interest" in the behavior of a student, especially if this behaviour can pose a significant risk to the safety or well-being of that student, other students, or other members of the school community — they do not need parental or student consent to access these files.

Fortunately for Caline and Mendeleiev, they fell into this category.

The women opened the file, greeted by her full name _Lila Camilla Rossi_ and a passport sized picture, separating and placing the different documents onto Caline's table, scanning through them hungrily. Of course, the documents only supplied what the two women had expected. There was the usual directory information, such as her date and place of birth, address, telephone numbers, and other such things. Her confidential information was also detailed, her academic record, grade reports, progress reports, school transcripts, letters of recommendation and comments from previous counselors and faculty. Nothing else _significant_ of her history at her previous school. 

But they did get the name of her previous school: _Scuola privata di Santa Maria_ (Saint Maria's Private School)

Mendeleiev grinned, "We're in luck. I know some teachers from there."

Caline blinked in surprise, "In _Italy_?"

"I have a life outside of this place, Bustier." The woman gave her a flat look. "I'll get in contact and send them your way."

She simply eyes the Rossi's home address. If she _hadn't_ gotten in contact with Mlle. Rossi's mother, she would've just dropped by her home unannounced. But, she wanted to ensure that the woman would be at home, which is hard to do when you _can't get into contact with her_. Caline sighs, "I need a drink."

Her co-worker replied, "I'm free. Want to go to _Maria Loca_ and tipsily talk our weight in Margaritas?"

"Not the drink I would have chosen." She shook her head, closing the folder. "But it's Monday, and we are responsible teachers. So, sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess who was wrong in thinking that they'll be completely revising Félix's character when he finally appears in canon? — _this girl_ .  
> (I had the _tiniest_ inkling that they wouldn't though, since his own creator _hates_ him, for a valid reason, but oh well. He was an asshole in his concept and he's an asshole in canon, pretty fitting.)
> 
> Having Félix be an antagonist/having him exactly like his Miraculous!PV personality isn't upsetting me really. I already said in Chapter 4 that if Félix was ever like his initial conception (manipulative, and irked by Marinetta's infatuation with him, going through extreme lengths to avoid her or even cause her harm, pretending to be in love with Ladybug so he can be free from the curse) and presented as Marinetta's crush/love interest, I would've said in no uncertain terms that he deserves no rights, due to the fact that I personally hate that type of pairing.  
> It's presented constantly in Anime and K-dramas, where the male lead is a verbally-abusive, manipulative, selfish asshole and the female lead is just supposed to take it because he's "truly a nice guy deep down" and she's so nice, and I have _never_ been here for it. But Félix as an antagonist is interesting, since he's exactly like Lila, but seems to have perfected his art of manipulation. So it works having him as an antagonist. (Although, he's presented as much more creepy and evil and I have a feeling that that was intentional due to Thomas' feelings on him and him being tired of the PV!Fans constantly asking questions about him.) Keep the exact same energy you have about Lila for Félix, they're both awful.
> 
> Plus, Marinette punched him in the face for coming onto her after she said no — we love to see it.
> 
>  _However_ — because I hated his initial character depiction, and was glad that they had initially discarded him _and_ I have the power within this fic to completely change his character (since I was planning to do it anyway), guess who's ignoring that. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ this fic was a canon-divergent one anyway. You can read how I'm going to characterize him in this fic in Chapter 4.
> 
> Some details will stay the same: his last name, for one. Originally, Félix's last name was going to be "De la Cour", meaning "of the court". That was for a specific reason, but I changed it upon finding out his canon last name. (Though, we have confirmation that it's his mother's maiden name, and it's unknown if she just reverted to her maiden name after her husband died/was "lost" and Félix just took it, but if there's any change, I'll change it.)  
> Félix in this fic _absolutely_ doesn't look like his canon appearance (he would look and be more like [this](https://edendaphne.tumblr.com/post/188570579260/i-drew-some-felinette-for-mardimaris-bday-im) fan-art by [ @edendaphne](https://edendaphne.tumblr.com/) and [these](https://fan-arter.tumblr.com/post/188747717638/hh-heres-some-good-ol-pv-felix-in-those-trying) sketches by [ @fan-arter](https://fan-arter.tumblr.com/) ).
> 
> I have exams next two weeks, so I just decided to put out this chapter before.  
> Thank you so much for reading, leave a review so I can have some type of feedback, and I'll see you with the next chapter.


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